


An Artist in Brooklyn

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Arguing, Artist Steve Rogers, Awkward Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Brooklyn, Crime Fighting, Cute, F/M, First Dates, First Time, Honest Sex Talk, M/M, Makeup Sex, Meet the Family, Muslim Character, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Recreational Drug Use, Retired Steve Rogers, Secret Identity, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Stoner Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Steve Rogers was content to spend his life after Thanos away from the battlefield. After saving the world, he had no need for the life of a superhero. Instead he traded his shield for a canvas and set to work following his passion of creating art. With his friends and his creativity, Steve thought it couldn't get any better.Then one afternoon he walked into 'Cleopatra's Cafe' and met Adem, and realized there was more that he was missing out on. Can he make a relationship work? Or will the never-ending call of being a hero get in the way...





	1. Meat-Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy everybody! So I've had this idea on the back burner for a while and decided that with Endgame coming it might be a good time to post it! I'm dropping this like I'm Netflix, Part 1 now and Part 2 later lol.
> 
> I'm really excited to share this with all of you! I've done my work to make this the best and hope you feel the same.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve set his paintbrush down, staring at his canvas with the unsettling feeling that something wasn’t working. The pinks and oranges weren’t blending together in a way he liked. Instead of the soft, sunset he was trying to capture, it reminded him more of the vape shop’s blinding neon sign that glowed at all hours of the day outside his window. And his blue, for whatever reason, wasn’t the right _shade_ he was looking for. If he stared any longer he would scrub all his work off and start over again.

Too tired to look at his work one more time, he walked away from his studio and into the main area of his living room. Like his studio, it existed in a state of disarray. Except instead of equipment, paints, and finished works, there was diversity to his clutter. A board game left set out from the last time his friends were over. Half-finished books with receipts stuffed in to mark his place. And hoodies stockpiled on the one leather seat he could never get comfortable on. Tony said it was a good chair, but Steve didn’t buy it for a second. Steve slumped into his sofa, grabbing a pillow to hold over his face; he groaned into it, muffling the sound.

He’d been stuck on this painting for two weeks because of some _shitty_ creative block. Steve slowly, but steadily, had been building his portfolio back up. It wasn’t an easy thing, starting from scratch. Most of his work was locked away in the Smithsonian, anything he did after waking up lost to him. But now that he wasn’t a fugitive any longer – a thank you for saving the universe – and Thanos gone and defeated, Steve allowed himself to relax. So he found a space for rent in Williamsburg, putting in for semi-retirement. Captain America was needed, but not in the same way. Mostly he reviewed strategies and gave advice when asked, fighting only if it was necessary. As more and more heroes poured into New York City, the necessity dropped further and further.

“Although I would rather face off against some bank robbers or… _anything_ than deal with this!” he screamed into the pillow, chewing the fabric. Pulling it down he frowned, sulking. He craned his neck back. “What should I do next? Pull out the charcoals… a different technique… give me a _sign!_ ”

_Grrgl-glb-glb-glb-grr_

“…I can do that,” he said, hand on stomach, “food… food sounds good about now.”

Steve pulled himself up. He shuffled around the room, grabbing all he needed before stepping outside. His wallet and keys sat in a nearby drawer. He slipped them into his pockets, thin exercise shorts sagging with the extra weight. Steve grabbed a sweatshirt from the pile and tugged it on. It was pink, matching the color stained on his skin. Sliding into a pair of sandals, Steve searched for the final pieces of his outfit. The beanie wasn’t hard to find; stuffed into the last jacket he wore. His glasses, however, proved much more difficult. After five minutes of looking, Steve found them in his medicine cabinet. He questioned for a brief moment why they were there, but didn’t linger on it long.

He closed the cabinet, putting the glasses on; they were boxy things with clear frames. Natasha tossed them to him at his housewarming present, saying this style was in. Steve wasn’t thinking about how trendy his disguise was, more concerned with how they worked. And, for the most part, it has.

Captain America – _Steve Rogers_ – is wrapped in a neat, little box within the cultural conscious. People expect him clean cut, wearing blue jeans and gingham shirts, carrying a flag at all times. History books and museums made him into this monument of ‘old America’: picket fences, golden boys, and apple pie. He chuckled, grateful for those characterizations of him _._ Because who would **really** expect the scruffy-looking guy in sweats with dried paint on his hands as Captain America?

Steve locked his door, tucking the beanie tighter onto his head as he made his way down the three flights and onto the street. It was fairly crowded, different people milling about. Whether walking, hanging out on stoops or waiting for a bus, all paid him no mind as he set out to find food. Steve blended in like any other guy in the neighborhood; another _hipster_ like Sam called him. He’s passing a group of women, smiling and nodding at them, when he saw it.

It was nestled between the bookstore Steve loved going into, and the tattoo shop where the owner begged him for a commission after he dropped his sketchpad one time. Steve passed this street all the time, but for as long as he has been there one location was always under construction… until today.

Like most buildings in the area it was made from bricks, the first story being the shop while the second a converted apartment. Their awning was a rich blue – the kind he was looking for – with big, bubble letters printed on it. ‘ _Cleopatra’s Café_.’ His stomach warbled again, breaking him from the spell. “Hang tight, buddy,” he said, “We’ll get you fed.”

Steve crossed the street, dashing through the crowded lanes before the light changed. He jogged to a stop in front, glancing inside. There were no customers, and no one behind the register. But when he checked the door, it said ‘ _Welcome! We’re Open!_ ’ Driven by hunger and curiosity, Steve entered. The little chime above the bell signaled his arrival.

“I’ll be out in a moment!” a deep voice called from the back, “Please, take a look at the menu!”

Steve stepped up to the counter, parsing through all the options. He settled on something familiar. Looking ahead, he stuffed a menu pamphlet into his hoodie pocket. If it was good, he might order their shawarma next game night. A few minutes pass, still with no sign of a server. He used the extra time to examine the store more closely. The walls, painted sandy beige, worked nicely with the blue tiling on the floor. A few circular tables were scattered about, two chairs to each except for one in the middle that had three. They were some type of wood, faded and worn, as were the chairs upholstered with cream fabric.

Behind the counter there were three shelves, where a few things had been placed. On the bottom shelf, a framed certificate rested next to a book. He only glimpsed the spine; intricately detailed gold-and-green leather with ‘Quran’ embossed. On the other side of it was a Newton’s Cradle, keeping it from falling over. Above it, on the middle shelf, rested two potted plants and an average sized snow globe with the Avenger’s Tower in it. Quickly moving on, he reached the top shelf. The only thing there was a photograph of a family. Husband and wife, standing in front of the building, with two young kids at their sides: one boy and one girl. They all smiled, holding a sign saying ‘ _Grand Opening_ ’. Steve matched their grins, wondering about them. The fact they managed to stay open in the sweep of gentrification that hit the community was nice to see.

“So sorry to make you wait, I didn’t realize how _long_ that would take.’ He’s thrown from his musings as the guy who called out to him earlier enters.

Steve turned; jaw almost dropping at the sight. But he caught himself, and cleared his throat instead. “No, it’s… okay. Didn’t mind…”

The guy moved towards the register. He wore a yellow-collared shirt under a brown apron. There’s a nametag fixed there on one of the straps. ‘ _Adem._ ’ Adem skewed his head to the side, brown eyes squinting at him. “Did you… figure out what you’re going to order?”

“I – uh… um –“

“Because if you didn’t that’s… totally _fine_ ,” Adem spoke over him, looking to the hanging menu, “We added a bunch of stuff after we re-opened, so choice _overload_ …” He kept talking, Steve too focused on studying him. Adem stood at about the same height as him, maybe an inch or two shorter, and much leaner than he was. He had a warm, tawny complexion, and dark, wavy hair cropped on the sides. Adem turned his way again, still explaining, allowing Steve more time to go over his features. His eyes glowed like amber in the slowly fading light of the day. It also highlighted his flat nose and strong chin. “Um… hello? Did you get all that?”

Steve blinked, flushing red. He nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’ll – I’ll just have some shawarma – _chicken_.”

“All right…” Adem rang the order up while Steve dug for his wallet. “That’ll be eight-twenty-three.” He handed over a ten. “Okay, here’s your change. It’ll be a few so…” Shrugging, Adem returned to the kitchen.

Wincing, Steve thought Adem must think he was strange. There were comments made, back when Steve announced his plans after defeating Thanos. How now with the weight of _America_ off his shoulders, he’d finally find time to get laid. It was good-natured teasing, nothing more, but hit a lot closer than he let on.

Dating was a tricky thing for him. Before the serum, he was such a scrawny guy no one wanted anything to do with him. And then after it – he only had eyes for one girl. But things got in the way. After waking up, there was too much awkwardness and settling that made it even _more_ difficult. Once he felt like he fit in with modern society, everything _else_ blew up. The closest he ever came was with Sharon, but they never moved past kissing. He couldn’t without picturing Peggy there with him. Now, with a somewhat quiet life, he _should_ have been able to throw himself back into the dating scene with the same ferocity as he did his art.

Except whenever he _thought_ of getting out there, his nerves froze up faster than a crashed plane in the Artic. And in the process, he made an ass out of himself, like now. So it was better if he stuck to what he knew and… not try for anything else. It didn’t help when his body betrayed him.

Steve short-circuited around pretty girls, even worse when it was pretty boys. Adem was a tall glass of water spilt all over his open mainframe, frying everything. He should have stayed where he was and controlled the system failure.

Still… something pushed him forward, following Adem into the back. The other man cooked through an opening, the kitchen like any other restaurant. Steve sat in one of the chairs, looking at Adem work.

Adem met his stare. “What?”

“Is this place new?”

“No, we’ve been here for awhile.”

Steve shrugged. “I haven’t noticed until now…”

Adem paused what he was doing, leaning forward. “You new to the area?”

“Not really. Brooklyn born, but… I did _move_. Only came back recently.”

“How recent?”

“About six months.”

He smiled. “There you go. We’d been under renovations for _two_ months already by the time you got here.”

“That’s a long time for repairs.”

“Yeah, well we needed ‘em,” Adem explained, “This place hadn’t been updated since before my family bought it. And that was over twenty years ago…”

Steve thought back to the picture, of the little boy. “Wait, so that photo – behind the counter –“

“That’s us.”

“Do they all work here?”

“Well it _is_ a family business…” Adem tilted his head to the side, again, “But they’re all out.”

“Is that a usual thing?”

“Why? Thinking of robbing me now or coming back later?”

He blanched, standing. “What? No – no, I –“

“Dude, chill,” Adem chuckled, “Just a joke. _Clearly_ you’re not dressed to do crime. But if you were, I’d recommend _sneakers_ – much easier to run in.” Steve tried joining him, but all he did was huff and shift awkwardly. “Nah, my folks got called away on emergency, and my uncle’s shift is an hour from now. My sis used to work here, but she and her husband are tending the food truck we opened while this place was closed.”

“Same name?”

“Cart instead of Café…” Adem turned then, moving into the back. He kept their conversation going. “So, are you always this curious with the people who make your food?”

“Being friendly, I suppose,” Steve said, “Are you always this responsive?”

“Not always. This one girl was chatting me up, but she couldn’t catch the hint that I _wasn’t_ interested.”

“What’d you do?”

“One word answers until she got her food and left. I wasn’t gonna risk her leaving us a bad Yelp review.”

“If you’re that nice to the people you’re not interested in, I wonder what you’re like to the ones you _are_.”

Adem returned, smirking. “Answer their questions… even though I shouldn’t.”

Steve flushed again, avoiding knowing eye contact. Adem clucked his tongue, the distinct sound of a pen scraping against Styrofoam overtaking their silence. He spoke, then, without realizing; mouth way ahead of his brain. “Well… since I’m asking questions and you – you’re answering, them…”

“…Yes?”

He gave himself a quick pep-talk, the inner monologue coaching himself along. “I was wondering… what the color of your awning was?”

“Excuse me?”

Steve sighed, scratching at his neck. “Well, that’s what drew me here in the first place. I saw your awning and it was _perfect_ for this painting I was working on.” He flashed his fingers, wiggling them at Adem. “I’m an artist. If I knew what the color was it’d make my life easier…”

“Umm… I’m not really sure?” Adem said, placing the Styrofoam on the small ledge in the opening, “Sorry, to me it’s just… _blue_.”

“No, no it’s… it’s okay,” Steve said, “I mean – long shot chance, right? I guess I’ll just keep… mixing and mixing until I can find the right balance.” He grabbed the container, stepping away. “Uh… thanks, for this. Maybe I’ll see you again or – or I meant I’ll be back.”

Steve barely made it to the entrance before Adem yelled for him. He spun, frowning back at the other man. “You know,” Adem said, “I could find out the color and tell you about it.”

He blinked. “How?”

Rolling his eyes, Adem scoffed. “Well, you _could_ always come back _or_ … use the number I gave you?” He pointed to the container in Steve’s hands

Steve glanced at it. On the cover, in a messy scrawl, was a set of numbers and ‘ _A. Sharif’._ He looked up. “Uhh…”

“The A stands for Adem.”

“I know…” Steve gestured to his nametag.

Adem, remembering, chuckled uneasily. “Yeah, yeah…” He swallowed harshly, tongue peeking out from his lips. “This… I wasn’t reading into things was I?” Steve shook his head ‘no’. “Okay… um, so there _was_ interest there?”

His voice rough, Steve said, “Yeah, yeah – yes. _Definite_ interest.”

“So you’ll use it?”

Steve nodded. “I’ll do it right now.” He snuck his phone out of his pocket, shooting off a text.

Adem checked his phone, smiling down at it. “Just hey?” he asked, “No name? What am I supposed to put in your contacts? Shawarma Artist Guy?”

“No, you can call me…” He scrambled for a name. Steve might be too obvious, and Adem could notice the similarities straight away. Knowing he took to long, he latched onto part of the truth. “… _Grant_ . Grant _Rodgers_ – with a ‘ _d_ ’ between the ‘o’ and the ‘g’.”

“Very particular about where you place the ‘d’, aren’t you?”

“That, that wasn’t -”

“You’re very nervous for an artist – especially a _Williamsburg_ artist,” Adem told him, “I _like_ it.” Three more people entered at that moment, drawing his attention away. “I’ll see what I can find out about that awning. Enjoy the shawarma, Grant ‘Rodgers with a d’!”

He bid goodbye, passing the new group on his way out. Steve walked back to his apartment in a haze, eyes trailing every now and then to his order. Every time he saw Adem’s scrawl his smile stretched so wide his face was wont to split in two; heart beating faster than any of Stark’s quinjets. It’s a miracle he made it back to his apartment without getting lost.

Steve tried calming himself down, but for the rest of the night he felt lighter and younger than he had in years. Like the Steve from Brooklyn was finally back. He thought, when a deep purple overtook the sky that it’d fade by morning.

Except he woke up to a text from Adem: ‘ _Ultramarine Blue_ ’.

It beat even _faster_.


	2. Wandering Thoughts

Tony stood, walking over to the head of the table to replace Carol. She stepped aside, back into her own seat, giving him his chance to speak. “Thank you, Carol, for the recon you did on the Skrull threat…” he said, scanning the room, looking each participant in the eye. Steve raised his for that brief moment, and then returned them to his lap, too distracted by his phone to give his full attention to the meeting. There was always a brief FRIDAY published moments after they finished that Steve promised he would read later.

For him, responding to Adem’s messages was more important than whatever the Skrulls planned. They’ve done this for a few weeks since the first meeting; exchanging little pieces of their day with each other. Mostly through texts, sometimes Steve called – when older sensibilities took over. And he’s visited Cleopatra’s Café two other times.

Those were rushed affairs, Steve and Adem sharing few words while they waited for his order to be done. It was during these times he acquainted himself with Adem’s parents. Lapis, Adem’s mother, was very beautiful. “I always said Adem inherited his looks from me,” she said. Steve and her shared a laugh, chuckling even more over Adem’s flushed expression. Framed by an emerald hijab, Steve took note of her eyes, the same sparkling color as Adem’s. He saw less of Femi, Adem’s father. Femi hid away in the kitchen, but Steve glimpsed him at odd moments. “Always too busy in there,” Lapis told him on his last visit, “But I’m sure we’ll all meet again _outside_ this restaurant.”

His lap vibrated with another message. “ **Do u think I’m pretty for an Indian man?** ”

With furrowed brow, he texted back, “ **Aren’t you Egyptian?** ”

“ **Not according to this guy who tried hitting on me. Real sweet talker, almost made me swoon. <3**”

Steve stifled a giggle, turning it into a cough. All eyes turned to him. “Sorry,” he said, “tickle in the throat. Carry on.”

Tony frowned, but continued. Steve waited a few seconds before sending another message. “ **If all it took was slightly racist compliments…** ”

“ **Yeah… u gotta step up ur game. Who knows what other white man could come in here and make me feel like king of an ethnic group. (crown emoji)** ”

They text back and forth the rest of the meeting; when Steve noticed Tony wrapping up, he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie. “Okay, so we’ll be keeping a closer eye, not only on Skrull movements but on the situations in both Southern Italy and the Andes. We’re thinking of putting a team together soon…” He walked around the table, over to where Steve sat. “Steve, you good to take the lead on that?”

Steve nodded, showing off a tight-lipped smile. “No problem… I’ll give you my suggestions by end of day.”

“Great.” He clapped him on the shoulder, “Other than that, great meeting. Until the next one!” Tony walked from the room, already fiddling with _his_ phone. Carol followed, chatting with Maria and Rhodey on their way out. Vision floated over to Wanda, grabbing her hand and phasing them both through the floor. Finally Scott immediately shrunk down, going somewhere Steve could not tell.

It’s only him and Natasha. She swung her legs onto the table, leaning her chair back as far as it could go. Turning to him, she smirked. “So?”

“So what?”

“You gonna tell me who you were texting or do I get three guesses?”

He straightens up, hand curling protectively around the lump his phone made in his hoodie. “What do you mean?”

Natasha sighed, twirling a lock of green hair with her finger. “Clueless isn’t a good look on you, Steve.”

“I – I wasn’t texting anyone –“

“Is this why you got busted for the Accords? Because you were such a _shit_ liar?”

He huffed. “Nat, really I was… paying attention to the _meeting_ . Like we’re _supposed to_.”

“ _Really_.” She squinted at him, teasing him. “Then could you tell me what was it Tony needed you to pick a team for?”

Steve stared forward, jaw clenched shut. “He…” he said, drawing out more time to think. He wondered why he chose to sit next to her instead of Scott. Glancing over at where Scott sat, he saw a trail of ants leading sugar crumbs away and remembered why. “He wanted me to suggest a team for… _Skrulls_?”

“… _Skrulls_?”

“Yep.”

“Wow,” Natasha said, “I had _no idea_ the Skrulls were in Southern Italy. Do you think they’re in the part that’s a heel or the tip… maybe even _Sicily?_ ”

“Nat…”

“I wouldn’t mind having you put me on the roster for _that_ team…”

He groaned, swiping a hand across his face. “What do you want to know?”

Natasha grinned. “Who’s making our Golden Boy act like some… ragamuffin _delinquent_?”

“…I’m over seventy years old.”

“Never too old to act like a teenager.”

“ _Natasha_ …”

“The sooner you tell me who it is the quicker I can stop…”

“Fine, his name is –“

“Oh… _his_ name –“

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” She nodded for him to continue. “Okay,” Steve huffed, “His name is Adem. We met… awhile ago in Williamsburg.”

“A _Williamsburg_ boy?” she chuckled, “What does he do? Barista? Tattoo artist? Play some wacky instrument like the _mandolin_?” With each item on her list she moved further and further into Steve’s space until he pushed her back.

“No he’s not like that,” Steve told her, “Very down-to-earth, works in his family’s restaurant…”

“Oh, so _you’re_ the Williamsburg boy?”

“Seriously?”

“If the painter’s smock fits…” She gestures to his look for the day. In addition to his hoodie and omnipresent beanie and glasses, Steve wore a loose fitting pair of jeans smeared with paint, and a pair of Converse he artistically ‘enhanced’.

“Sorry we all can’t rock the punk lifestyle, Nat,” Steve fired back, serving her his own pointed stare. Nat met it with a raised brow. She dressed in a leather jacket to match her studded motorcycle boots. A faded band t-shirt, black jeans, and hammer-and-sickle chain necklace completed her outfit.

“None of you can get to my level,” she said, “But enough about me. Tell me more about your Adem boy. Have you gone on a date, had sex… I want _everything_.”

“There’s… there’s not much to tell, really.” Steve shifted in his seat, cheeks hot under the metaphorical spotlight. “We’ve been talking… we’ve been _texting_ …”

“And…?”

“…And not much else.”

“Really Steve?” she scoffed, “What’s the deal? You don’t want to take him out?”

“It’s… it’s complicated.”

“Then _make_ it less complicated.”

Steve rocked forward, elbows resting on the table’s surface, thinking about where to start. He debated on asking Adem on a date. Examined the issue from every angle during each quiet moment, the idea taking up more and more space in his head. But whenever he worked up the courage to turn thought into action he stalled like a run-down car. Steve considered doing it in person, but the pressure of having Adem’s family watch held him at bay. Text was another option, but allowed Adem the possibility of not responding – ghosting as Sam called it. He even floated the idea of e-mailing him, until he realized he didn’t have Adem’s email nor could ask for it in a reasonable way.

Rationalizing to himself, Steve tried to do some research on Adem to calm his nerves. It did as well as lying to a child about going to the dentist. Using the skills Natasha and Clint showed him, Steve stalked through all of Adem’s social media, tracking his online footprint.

Adem _was_ curious when Steve told him he didn’t have any of the apps he had. “But you’re an artist,” he said, “Don’t you kind of survive on exposure and word of mouth?”

“I have my own methods of that,” Steve told him, “Besides, I don’t – uh… trust social media.”

Adem understood. “You’re more old school, then.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, “could even call me an _old soul_.”

He realized he was way too old while searching through Adem’s different feeds. His Instagram scared him. Pictures of Adem with friends, out in the town day and night, were the most common. All people who’ve lived a third of the years Steve was alive. And the few pictures dedicated to his family, although heart-warming, shredded his nerves. Adem had an established life, and if Steve were to come in with his baggage he might screw everything up. It would be awful if he dragged Adem down while he was in his prime.

And then there was his Twitter. So many articles and scientists re-tweeted, some political, most about space. He tried reading through a few, to understand, but halfway through one his head pounded, demanding he stop. That struck at his confidence as well, Steve thinking he was too spacey to understand Adem. How they may never find anything in common.

Steve explained to Natasha all of this, revealing the whirlwind his mind had been trapped in as of late. She listened to it all silently, not cracking a joke or interrupting with a smart remark. He appreciated that.

When he finished, she still said nothing. But after a long beat, she spoke. “So you’ve convinced yourself out of a relationship… before you could even start it?”

His lips curled inward, leaving a thin line. “Yeah,” he breathed, “Guess I did.”

“Steve,” she started, “You are one of the smartest, most creative people I know. You can adapt to a situation faster than anyone… but when it comes to romance? You’re so _slow_.”

“…Is this supposed to help?”

“Look, to me it seems like you really like this guy. All you need is a push.”

“A push?”

“Yeah, so –“ she held up his phone, flashing it at him, “- I want you to text him. Ask him out on a date right now.”

“How… how did you get my phone.”

Natasha waved him off. “That doesn’t matter. What _does_ is that if you don’t text him… I _will_.”

He glared at her. Steve knew Natasha never made threats she wouldn’t follow through on. He was there when she told Tony his bank balance would be emptied if he didn’t restock her yogurt after eating the last one. If it wasn’t for him and Thor, Tony would have blasted Natasha into space after getting the notification he was bankrupt.

“…Fine,” he said, “I’ll do it.” She dropped the phone into his hand. Steve pulled up Adem’s and his messages, typing and re-typing until he settled on something that didn’t make him want to vomit. “ **Hey, sorry about the delay. Was pulled away… by the way, I was thinking – if it wasn’t too much trouble – if you’d like to do something with me sometime. Hang out, but in a date way? Totally cool if you say no, but really hoping you say yes!** ” He slid the phone away, heart in his throat. “It’s sent.”

Natasha snorted. “That took a long time. Were you writing a text or composing a sonnet?”

“Hey!”

“How many ways did you compare him to a summer’s day?”

“Seriously, Nat, this is nerve-wracking. So if you could –“

It vibrated, drawing their attention to it. His phone did it again, three more times, with each new text it jumped closer and closer to him. Steve froze, as if his body slammed into the icy waters of the Artic all over again.

Natasha groaned beside him. “Seriously, do you want me to read this for you?”

Her offer spurred him into action. He picked it up and opened it, reading through the messages. With each one he came across, the larger the smile on his face got.

“ **Hey it’s totally cool. A huge rush of customers came in about that time too.** ”

“ **It wouldn’t be any trouble if u wanted to hang out in a date way.** ”

“ **I was really hoping ud ask… we’ve been doing this back and forth and I wasn’t sure how to approach it?** ”

“ **Shit, should I have sent that? (awkward stare emoji)** ”

Another text was sent, shaking his hands to alert him. “ **Please tell me I didn’t make u reconsider asking me? I swear I’m not usually like this.** ”

Steve chuckled, texting him back. “ **I don’t regret asking you. I can’t wait.** ”

“ **Neither can I. Discuss details later?** ”

“ **Sure.** ”

He stuffed his phone back in his pocket, feeling warmer than usual in Stark’s climate controlled conference room. Natasha waited until he finished before pouncing, digging her claws into his shoulder and shoving her feline grin into his face. “So?” she asked, “It all work out?”

He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. “We’ll see, Nat.”

“I want to hear all about it. _Especially_ the _sex_ –“

“ _Natasha_!”


	3. The Date's the Thing

Adem met Steve a quarter to three in front of his apartment. Steve waited for him, leaning against the faded brick face wall, hands stuffed into his pockets. He was about to call when Adem rounded the corner, winded. “Sorry, so sorry,” he gasped, slowing to a stop beside Steve, “I know I’m late – mom had to use the bathroom, and then this group of eight came in, didn’t know what they were ordering.” He trailed off, staring at Steve. “Wow. When you said dress comfortably you really meant it.”

Steve looked down at his outfit: a pair of overalls over a white t-shirt and Birkenstock sandals. He raised a brow. “Should I have dressed up a bit more?”

Adem shook his head, “No, no, you planned the day. Besides, look what I’m wearing.” He was, studying the other man like he was another of his paintings. Adem wore a dark denim jacket; paired with an orange t-shirt, camouflage joggers, and painstakingly pristine white sneakers. Steve stepped closer, reaching a hand out to inspect the necklace around Adem’s neck. “Just a little something of my grandfather’s.”

“It’s beautiful…” He ran a thumb over the silver pendant. Etched into its surface was a crescent moon, curved upwards, surrounding an eight-pointed star. Steve was drawn to it, a strange wonder washing over him the longer he held it. “Do you wear it at the restaurant?”

“Yeah, but never out in the open,” Adem chuckled, “That’s just  _ asking _ for trouble.” 

Steve smiled, pulling away. “Are you not a fan of  _ trouble _ ?”

“I don’t know… are  _ you _ trouble, Grant?”

“I have been called a punk in my youth.”

He rolled his eyes. “Glad to see you’ve reformed.”

“Who says I’ve done that?”

“ _ Whatever _ ,” Adem sighed, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulders, “Why don’t you tell me what we’re doing and then try and impress me with your bad-boy-leather-jacket-wearing past.”

He rolled his eyes, unable to even imagine skinnier him wearing  _ leather _ . Steve stowed his stories away, instead telling Adem what he had planned. The day after he texted Adem, they chatted about stuff they were  _ against _ doing on a date.

Adem didn’t want to sit and eat in a restaurant, insisting that, “I work in one six days out of the week, I’d rather have a little variety on my down time.” He understood, and took them out of his idea pool as well as movies. That was Steve’s call, wanting to spend their time learning more about each other instead of wasting two hours in silence and parting ways. It was getting pretty late when Adem tossed in the towel. “You know what?” he said, “Surprise me. Whatever you want to do – I’m all for it.” They exchanged goodbyes before hanging up. Steve didn’t get to bed for another hour, scrolling the Internet for an idea.

What he found seemed like a great compromise. After a comfortable walk through the neighborhood, swapping jokes and observations, they arrived at the East River State Park for Smorgasburg. Already a huge crowd milled about, pushing and pulling against each other like waves in the sea. Steve figured there’d be many people out – the sunny weather a signal for everyone to enjoy the Saturday. He spent a few minutes before leaving his apartment psyching himself up in the mirror, preparing for the crowds. It was a funny feeling realizing the date wasn’t what worried him the most.

All his work, however, turned to dust with a snap as he gauged the size of the event. 

Instincts kicked into overdrive. He scanned the area for any signs of danger and different choke points where the clusters seemed too thick. There’s tugging on his arm, but Steve paid it no mind. Strategy and planning whirled, rooting him to the spot. Ringing sounds from far off, the din a loud whir that fades into the distance. It’s replaced by Adem’s worried murmuring of his name.

Steve blinked back into the moment, turning to him. “What is it?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, frowning, “You went somewhere and… you almost broke my hand, dude.”

“I did?” Steve asked, heart dropping like a broken elevator. “Oh… oh no…” He clamps his hand over his eyes, unable to look at Adem.

“Hey, hey, hey… what happened?”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve rushed out, “I didn’t think this would happen, or –“

“Grant, look at me.” Adem tore Steve’s hand away from his face, expression plaintive and caring. “Take a breath, and then tell me.”

Steve did as asked, gulping down a lungful with abandon. He gazed down at the amulet as he explained. “I’m, uh… When I picked this spot I knew there would be a crowd. I thought that with the open space and when we got here, it wouldn’t be so bad, but…” Sighing, he raked his fingers through his hair. “You should know that this is my first date in a…  _ long _ time. Before I was too busy with the – the  _ military _ , and –“

“Oh, shit,” Adem interrupted, “were you having like a PTSD moment?”

Steve, taken aback, flapped his lips in a false start before finding his voice again. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I was having  _ that _ . Not a flashback but my mind started treating this like a battlefield, and… I’ll try not to let that happen again.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Adem started, squeezing his hand, “if it happens, it happens. I’m not going to force you to make yourself uncomfortable. We could still do something else, the day’s not over yet!”

Steve offered him a small smile, grateful for the suggestion. He looked back at the fair, the sea of people less intimidating than before. “I think I’m good. It was the PTSD plus the nerves. Like I said this is my first date –“

“In a long time,” Adem finished for him, chuckling, “Which to say I’m honored, and surprised. Snack like you? Thought you’d be taken off the market already.”

Blushing, Steve bit his lip. Thankfully his stomach rumbled and provided a perfect out. “Speaking of snacks,” Steve said, leading Adem towards the stalls, “I could go for something to eat. Maybe if we stick to the fringes…”

“Sounds good to me!” Adem said, “Although I hope you’re not too hungry… lines here are killer.”

“You’ve been before?”

“Yeah, with a few friends back in college,” he told him, “Not the best experience. Three from my group got food poisoning and dropped chunks in a rose bush. I was never so thankful I couldn’t eat pork.”

“Sounds awful… do you think the stand’s still here?”

“No, that was years ago. I’m pretty sure they would have barred it from coming back.”

“Gotcha. You seeing anything you’re interested in? I know you can’t eat pork, but should I keep my eye out for anything else?”

A family of four cut across their path, Steve pausing and Adem stumbling into him. “Oh,” Adem mumbled, fingers dancing across his butt, “I wouldn’t mind some cake…”

Steve blanched, clearing his throat. “What was that?”

“I said I’m not too picky, but could go for a sandwich or something.”

“Yeah, a sandwich sounds good.”

They walked along the edges, searching for a stand with a short enough line and a menu they both enjoyed. In their journey, Steve and Adem talked more about their lives and the surroundings. Adem cracked a joke about the guy with a hole so large in his pants they could see his off-white underwear, and Steve was left gasping for breath. The longer he spent in Adem’s company Steve felt his heart sedate itself into a normal rhythm.

Soon enough they saw a sign that piqued both their interests. The line was long, but Steve was willing to wait.

Ramen burgers were something he never got around to trying yet. He’d heard Tony wax poetic about them, having been able to float down in his Iron Man suit and cut the line. He told Steve he could do the same thing if he dusted off his suit. All Steve gave him was an epic eye roll and a lecture how Captain America was an emergency-only situation.

“I’ve seen these all over Instagram but never found the time to go out and try,” Adem said as they shuffled forward, closer to the stall.

Steve agreed. “I never even managed to pass by the shop to pull off the ‘well I might as well because I’m here’ song and dance…”

“Too busy with your paintings?” Adem asked, smirking, “By the way, did you ever find the blue color I told you?”

“Yes! Thank you so much for your help.”

“It was nothing – seriously, nothing. I asked my mom and she did all the digging.”

“Well then maybe it should have been Lapis joining me today than you…”

“Shut up,” Adem shoved him, “Don’t let her hear you say that or she’ll take you up on that.”

“Really?”

“I wish I recorded the day she met you,” he told Steve, “After you left all she kept talking about was how  _ amazing _ and  _ beautiful _ and  _ polite _ you were. That if I didn’t ask you out immediately would be a huge mistake.”

“Aww,” Steve chuckled, “so glad I have Lapis’s vote of confidence.”

“Oh who could hate you,” Adem ruffled Steve’s hair, “you’re like a glorified golden retriever.”

“ _ Funny _ . Haven’t heard that one before.”

They continue bickering on their way up to the front of the line. When they reach it, Steve beat Adem in flashing his wallet. Adem mock glared while waiting for their food. “Just so you know,” he whispered, “this means  _ I’m _ paying for the next one.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Next one?”

“Of course,” Adem said, “Unless you pull out a twist like some secret identity or that you voted for Trump, I can see a second date happening.”

Forcing out an awkward laugh, Steve stuttered out, “That’s a – that’s a good one. Secret –  _ please _ . Like  _ anything’s _ a secret nowadays with social media and the Internet, uh –“ Their server calls out their order number. “Oh, look! Our food’s ready. Great!” He plucked the tray from her hands and began walking away, Adem jogging behind. “Why don’t we find a spot in the grass to enjoy this.”

“Hey! Grant wait up!” Steve knew this was making him look bad, but Adem’s harmless attempt at a joke poked at his hackles. He encountered a sudden adrenaline rush that forced him to choose between fight or flight. The latter was the more tempting option.

When he finds a barren spot nearby, he plopped down. Adem joined moments later, quiet and contemplative. Steve handed him his food and crammed his burger into his mouth. The first bite tasted fine, but it felt bland on his tongue. Looking over at Adem, he noticed how it was still whole.

“Grant,” Adem started, “Are you all right? Back there… that wasn’t another episode was it?”

Steve cursed internally, hating how he worried the other man. “No,” Steve told him, “It wasn’t that, I…” He wished he could confess in that moment, tell Adem who he truly was. This was only their first date, but they spent weeks getting to know each other. Romantic at heart, Steve knew he was gone on the other man. His heart had boxed and mailed itself to ‘ _ Cleopatra’s Café _ ’. Still… he couldn’t risk Adem’s safety like this just yet. Better he played some cards close to his chest.

Others, however, were his to show. Smiling, Steve reached across and squeezed Adem’s knee. “I was nervous is all,” he said, “How casually you said we’d get another date, I… I expected to mess this up in some way. Already had a rough start – but you decided on a second date anyway. This is… I really like you, Adem.”

“I like you, too,” he said, “Grant, I… you’re not the only one nervous. Who doesn’t want to mess this date up. You’re probably the best date I’ve ever had. A lot of the guys I’ve been out with have been total jerks and asses. No one as sweet as you has ever been interested in me I was scared this might all be some fluke. I only tend to attract the worst New York has to offer. There wasn’t any worry that you might end up not being who you said you were… but that I would do the wrong thing and make you not wanna see  _ me _ anymore.”

Steve shook his head, grinning. “We’ve both been through a whole lot of worrying for nothing, have we?”

“I’ll say…” Adem took a bite of his burger, then, moaning. “This is everything they said it’d be and  _ more _ . What do you think?”

Not sold after his first bite, Steve has another. This time, an explosion of flavor hits his tongue, making his body recoil and shiver from the aftershocks. “It’s  _ delicious _ . If the line didn’t double since we left I’d say we get back on for more.”

“You say that, but look at these fries,” Adam held the Styrofoam cup out to him, overflowing with shoestring fries, “By the time we finish I’ll be  _ full up _ .”

“Adem,” Steve started, chewing, “I hope you don’t mind if by the end of this my six-pack turns into a belly.”

“I doubt that’s possible you marbled freak, but I’d like you at any size.”

They ate in comfortable silence after that, enjoying each other’s presence. When they finished, both picking at the remaining fries in Adem’s cup, they looked around from their spot at anything else that seemed interesting. Thirsty, Steve suggested getting a drink. Adem led him over towards the bar.

“Not water?”

“I already have, like, five reusable water bottles,” Adem said, “I’d be killed if I brought home another.” He ordered a mocktail for himself and a bottle of beer for Steve. After paying for those (“This doesn’t count as a second date, Grant.”) they left Smorgusburg and walked hand-in-hand around the East River State Park.

Again, their time spent together was filled with idle chatter. Adem asked him more about his art, and Steve fell into a near-twenty minute monologue about his inspirations and desire to test his limits. After noticing Adem’s stare, Steve trailed off and apologized for monopolizing the conversation.

“Don’t be,” Adem said, “the way you were talking just now it’s clear to see how passionate you are. I love that. So many people search forever to figure out what makes them happy and you have it.”

“Well, I had a lot of time to do that soul-searching,” Steve confessed, sipping at his beer, “And it’s not like that’s the only thing… but enough about me. Is there anything you’re passionate about?”

This got Adem going on a grand discussion about astrophysics. It must have been obvious how a lot of his terms were flying over Steve’s head, because Adem paused, smiled, and started over while explaining certain parts with much more detail. When he talked about science, Steve understood it. Not like Tony who would roll his eyes and steamroll past his questions, or Bruce who jumped from topic to topic so sporadically his ‘simple’ version needed a guide to comprehend. Shuri pranked him enough times that he learned to stop asking her when she presented new tools and gadgets.

“…And that’s not even half of what’s possible today…” Adem sighed, swirling the dregs of his mocktail in the paper cup he was given.

Steve, noticing his frown, squeezed his hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I miss talking like this,” Adem confessed, “My parents, they’re always so busy with the restaurant. My friends never really  _ want _ to listen to me ramble… And school…”

Steve skewed his head to the side. He asked, “What about it?”

“I,” Adem glanced away, “I had to drop out before finishing my degree. Stuff with the restaurant and…  _ personal _ stuff.”

The mood shifted, and Steve could tell Adem was weighing some heavy scales in his mind. Steve wanted to ease that burden for him. He tugged Adem closer, curling his other arm around his neck protectively. “Hey,” he hummed, “I get it. Personal stuff. You don’t have to tell me right now… we still have a whole lot of other dates to go on.”

Adem snorted into his chest. “Dates? We have more after the second?”

“Of course,” Steve said, smirking, “How am I going to pay you back after you bought the drinks?”

“Ass…” he pulled away. They walked a few more steps before Adem knocked into Steve’s shoulder. “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem.”

They grew tired, only being able to walk around a park for so long, and decided to leave and return to Williamsburg proper.

“Anywhere you wanna go?” Steve asked.

Adem shrugged. “Let’s just wander.”

It was a great day for that. The sun still shone in the sky, allowing them a few hours to mill about the area. They ventured into many different stores. Adem dragged Steve into a comic store, where they looked around. He veered away from all the Captain America merchandise, pushing his glasses further up his face. Adam zeroed in on a few shelves that had board games on them, picking one up and showing it to Steve. “Have you heard of this before?”

Steve grabbed the box from his hand, reading it aloud. “Victorian Masterminds…” Humming, he handed it back. “No, is it new?”

“Yeah, it came out in February but I’ve had trouble finding it anywhere – even online!” Adem bit his lip, blushing, “I  _ may _ have forgotten to mention I’m a bit of a board game nerd.”

“Board games are fun!” Steve said, “I’ve played a few here or there… have you heard of this one called Cards Against Humanity?”

Blinking, Adem raised his brows. “ _ Everyone _ has heard of Cards Against Humanity.”

“Right, right…” Steve winced, scratching at his head. “It’s a… fun game.”

Rolling his eyes, Adem squeezed Steve’s bicep. “It is. Although I might not have enough space in my games cupboard if they keep releasing expansion packs.”

“Expansion packs?”

“Extra cards that have new jokes, sometimes they fit around a theme like post-apocalyptic or women’s issues, even…” His eyes strayed to the shelves, scanning. Adem found what he looked for, tossing a small box Steve’s way. “Superheroes.”

A cartoon version of himself was plastered on the box, the ‘A’ replaced with a ‘CoH’. He frowned, not caring for the caricature. Steve knew at least ten different ways they could have improved upon it. “Thanks,” Steve said, placing it back, “But I don’t even own the game myself. My friend does.”

“Well, if you ever need a last-minute gift.”

They made their purchase and moved on to the next store. Steve took Adem into an art supply store where he purchased three blank drawing pads. Adem’s wide eyes flustered Steve at checkout. “I, uh… tend to run out of space quickly,” he said, “So it’s better to buy in bulk.”

Neither made it their plans to shop, but as their time wore on they carried more and more bags. In a clothing store, Adem saw a yellow hoodie he wanted that was on sale. Steve bought a khaki knapsack he thought would be good to hold his supplies when he wanted to sketch outside. Their earlier meal was fading, so they stopped to get some milkshakes before heading back to Steve’s apartment.

The sun had set by the time they made it there; still laughing at the scene they passed. A man in a colorful suit, screaming into his phone, wasn’t looking where he walked and tripped over an out of place garbage can. He fell in, tipping it over and leaking the contents everywhere. Steve recognized his and Adem’s half-finished milkshakes staining his emerald green outfit. They rounded the corner, out of breath and grins wide.

Slowing as they reached Steve’s steps, Adem turned to him. “I had a really fun day with you, Grant.”

Steve told him the same thing. “I’m really glad you said yes.”

“I’m happy you even asked,” Adem chuckled, “I know I wouldn’t have had the balls, too.”

“I didn’t either until my friend gave me a little push.”

“Then remind me to thank them…” Adem’s gaze dipped down to Steve’s lips, a question hiding behind his amber stare. Steve wanted to answer, already drifting closer as if trapped in Adem’s orbit.

But then a bicyclist’s rang her bell and startled them out of the way as she sped on past.

“Fucking bicyclist,” Adem huffed, “They think they  _ own _ the city…”

“I didn’t realize the streets were this dangerous,” Steve joked, wringing his hands, “Do you, maybe, want to take this upstairs?”

Adem winced to Steve’s surprise. Then, something Sam and Bucky were talking about came to mind. How Buck had went on a date and the girl asked him if he wanted some coffee from her home brew. He never got his coffee, but he did have something to hold him over until the next morning when he left.

Understanding what he said, Steve backpedaled. “Not like, I mean not that I expect you to want to do anything. More as a ‘let’s keep this going’ G-rated, first date kind of thing. Not that I don’t find you sexy – I do – I’m not ready for anything more either and –“

Adem placed a hand over Steve’s mouth, his own held tight to contain his laughter. “You know, you’re much more awkward than I imagined you being,” Adem told him, “It’s a good thing I find it charming.” Removing his hand, Adem agreed to his suggestion. 

“I have to warn you, though,” Steve said, hand on his door, “It’s a bit messy.”

Adem chuckled, “Didn’t think I’d be seeing this so soon?”

“…Something like that.” Steve stepped into the room first, blocking Adem’s view as he scanned his apartment. Nothing that could connect him to Captain America or the Avengers was in view, so he breathed a sigh of relief and stepped to the side.

His friends had a bad habit of leaving stuff at his place. Scott accidentally enlarged his ketchup bottle and couldn’t shrink it for two weeks. Carol tracked alien guts in one time and had him stressing over how to get it out. And he’s certain there’s a running bet going on within the team about who can find the most annoying place to leave his costume.

“Wow,” Adem said, moving towards the sofa, “There are so many… colors.” He focused on a painting he hung by his bedroom door, walking closer for a better look. “I like this… what’s it supposed to be of?”

“Nature… life…” Steve gestured to the swirling mixture of pinks and greens, streaks of a gold-ish brown painted throughout. “I saw this tree once on a… vacation I took and really wanted to capture its essence.” Especially since the tree was no more, Thanos having been tossed into and uprooted it.

“You’ve really got a lot of talent,” Adem told him, heading over to the couch again, “Not like  _ any _ artist I’ve seen.” His eyes trailed over the coffee table, and he smirked. “Although there are a few similarities…” He picked up the bong, shaking it. “Yours?”

Steve blanched, eyeing the red, white, and blue piece of blown glass with horror. “I – uh… like I said, my apartment’s a mess.”

“Dude, it’s legal now stop looking like I’m gonna call the cops.” Adem inspected it carefully. “It’s really pretty… and pretty hilariously themed. Captain America? Like he’d ever smoke…”

Steve chuckled alongside him, fingers flexing at his side. “Yeah, he’d never…”

He does, and often. It wasn’t a habit he picked up for the first couple of years after defrosting. His relationship with marijuana began a few weeks after the snap, when everyone was drifting and trying to pick up the pieces. Steve came back from his support group meeting to find Bruce smoking a joint out on the balcony.

“Being in space and everything, I kind of forgot how much I missed this,” Bruce said, “The kind of peace it gives… especially after what happened.”

Steve struggled past the rock in his throat. “It’s a hard thing, searching for that.”

Bruce offered the joint to him. “Maybe this’ll help?”

Smoking calmed him down, made it easier to face the day. Helped him push the grief back far enough to reclaim the hope that they could beat Thanos. That first day he smoked, he smiled for the first time in a while. Thor found them laughing at kitten videos in the lab.

After they fixed the universe, restored all that Thanos took, Steve kept with it. There were other things marijuana did for him that surpassed the snap. It was the only substance that actually affected his body, allowing him to relax. And with his new life retired from battle, smoking calmed him down enough when all he could think of is how to incapacitate whoever crossed his path. He even used other products like CBD oils for when his muscles ached after training.

The bong was Tony’s idea, a housewarming present. Steve snatched it from Adem, walking over towards a nearby window. “Do you smoke?”

“Nah,” Adem said, sitting, “Kinda against my religion. Y’know… no intoxicants in the body?”

Steve nodded, setting down by the window seat. “Do you mind if I…?”

Adem waved him on. “I don’t mind,” he said, “You look like you’re not going to hotbox me.”

“Thanks.” Steve opened a small wooden box that was already on the window seat. Inside was some rolling papers, a grinder, a lighter, and a small jar of weed. He took a few buds and dumped it into the grinder, mashing it together until it was usable. Steve readied the bong and opened the window. Pressing his mouth against it, Steve flicked the lighter near the bowl and smiled when the bubbling started up. He only needed a few breaths of it, blowing the smoke out into the night sky and placing it down soon enough.

The buzz helped calm the earlier nerves he felt from standing outside his apartment with Adem. “So,” he started, voice raspy from the smoke, “You can’t eat pork… I’m guessing no drinking alongside the smoking. How religious  _ would _ you say you are?”

“Pretty average, I guess,” Adem shrugged, “I mean, I grew up all my life with these rules and never felt the need to break them. Well… okay, one time in high school I got super black-out drunk at a party and spent the entire morning and afternoon vomiting in my friend’s bathroom. After that I was like… never again.”

“Gross.”

Adem bit his lip, squinting at Steve. “That wasn’t… the whole religion thing isn’t going to be a deal breaker is it?”

“What?” Steve asked, shocked, “Why would –“

“Because my faith  _ is _ something that’s important to me,” Adem continued, “And I know some gay guys have a problem with organized religion but I  _ will _ leave if you begin to speak down to me about it –“

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Steve rushed over, grip tight on Adem’s shoulders, “That was  _ not _ where I was going with this.”

“Oh… sorry,” Adem blushed, glancing away, “Like I said… I’ve been around the block with a lot of douchebags. Some way or another they always ask about my faith and it’s never anything  _ good _ . Sometimes they make jokes… scoff at it as a whole… or even ask me really invasive questions like I’m the spokesperson for the entire religion! It’s – uh… it’s become a touchy subject on dates.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Steve said, “I’m sorry for overstepping. I want you to know that it wasn’t me trying to be patronizing or whatever, I was genuinely curious.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled, “I knew of it, had a few friends growing up who practiced. Never really shared what it was about, though. Not that they didn’t want to, it’s just everything around us was so…  _ Christian _ . It all felt very swept under the rug.” Back when he was still in school, he remembered a few kids being out on the day of an exam. They explained how it was a holy day for them to their uncaring schoolteacher. She snapped her ruler across the blackboard and told them they should take their lessons more seriously than their made-up religion. And they couldn’t stay long afterschool, always rushing to another classroom to learn more about their culture.

“But I – uh… I did some research before, about Islam, in case it came up,” he continued, “I wasn’t really too sure if any of it was right, though… the Internet has so much sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s sources are credible. The last thing I wanted to do was offend…”

“God you’re so sweet,” Adem sighed, “Like how are you real?”

Steve grinned, hands sweeping up from his shoulders to cradle his face. He brushed his thumb against his cheek. “Funny, that’s what I was thinking the first day we met.”

Adem leaned forward and captured Steve’s lips in a warm embrace. Steve’s eyes widened before falling shut as the fire spread past his face and consumed his entire body. Adem’s hands latched onto Steve’s sides, clinging onto the denim overalls. The kiss started slow, and then picked up when Steve felt a slight tap on his lips. He let Adem’s tongue sneak through, guiding Adem’s head to the side to seal his mouth over his at a better angle.

They made out like teenagers seconds away from curfew. Lost in the feel of Adem’s body, Steve allowed his body to fall back so Adem could straddle him. One of his hands slid ever further up, tugging at Adem’s hair.

Rolling his hips, Steve felt a heavy weight bumping against his own.

Breaking apart, he panted with spit-slick lips. Adem looked thoroughly mussed as well, his eyes glazed over and pupils wide. He pulled up, hands resting on Steve’s stomach.

“That was…”

“Yeah…”  
Blushing, Adem swung off of Steve and stood. “I… As much as I liked that, I don’t –“

“No, yeah,” Steve said, propped up on his elbows, “Yeah I get it.” He fixed his glasses glad they weren’t too askew. “If we keep going I might…”

“Agreed…” Adem wrung his hands. Cursing softly, he surged forward and kissed Steve one last time. He drained all the breath from Steve’s lungs, a wisp of it ghosting past his lips as Adem stepped back. Steve followed his movements. “I should be going home…”

Steve nodded. “When do you want to -?”

“Soon,” Adem said, smiling, “Really soon.” Pausing at the door, he fiddled with the knob. “I’ll call you?”

“Yeah.” He left him, then, with that last promise. When the door shut behind Adem, Steve collapsed onto his couch. His fingers danced over his lips, the skin there still tingling. Sighing, Steve sags even further into the cushions. “…This went really well.”


	4. Meet the Sharifs

Steve fixed his button-down one final time, smoothing out the wrinkles he made from tucking it in. The dark green shirt thankfully hid most of them, but he spent too much time already in making sure his outfit was perfect. The color complemented his dark jeans and brown Chukka boots, as well as the brown leather jacket hanging on a nearby coat hanger.

When Adem invited Steve over for dinner, the disclaimer provided was: “There’s no need to worry, they already love you!”

Steve never learned to heed a warning. He spent the entire day puzzling over what to wear, what to bring, and what to talk about. There weren’t that many clothes in his closet that _weren’t_ paint stained, so he started by heading into the shops around and searching for a good outfit. Unable to do it alone, Steve looped Nat into his spiral.

“I don’t know why you’re freaking out about this,” Nat said, chewing on something that distinctively sounded like bubblegum. “You’ve crashed planes, gone into space… but your courage draws the line at family dinners?”

“No,” he whispered harshly, phone pressed into the crook of his neck as he used both hands to cycle through a sales rack. “It’s… battles, I know. There’re plans, strategy, and if all else fails I throw myself headfirst into danger and punch. I can’t really do that _here_.”

“Well, you can. Just don’t expect them to be so fond of you if –“

“Not _helping_!”

“Steve, you’re going to be fine. Didn’t you already say you’ve met his folks?”

He did. Nat was the only member of the team who knew about him and Adem. Not that he wanted to keep his boyfriend a secret, it’s just that he can’t maintain his secret identity if Adem knew he was friends with Tony Stark, Thor, Bruce Banner and the rest of them. And he wanted to introduce them, someday, it being the closest to a family dinner on his side. But they are still a while away before Steve could consider taking their relationship into that next step.

Officially this would be their fifth date. Unofficially Steve was sure they’ve hung out in the triple digits. Whenever he had the time he’d poke his head into ‘Cleopatra’s Café’ to visit, memorizing Adem’s schedule well enough to know when he’d be in. They’d chat for a few minutes, some days he’d order something others he took them, unofficially being hired when the rush seemed too hectic. “We’re looking for a delivery boy,” Femi said, “Who knew how much our neighborhood missed us after being gone so long!”

When they went out, food was the furthest thing from their minds. Smorgusburg was the only date that featured it as the main attraction, planning the others around something else. Adem bought he and Steve tickets to a show at the Hayden Planetarium near Central Park. It wasn’t a spectacular view – having been among the stars himself – but what made it special was Adem’s whispering in his ear, correcting the guide, making observations and stating his own ‘fun facts’. As a hyper realistic copy of the sun was shown on the dome, Steve’s eyes were drawn towards the only star that mattered to him.

Keeping with the theme, Steve took Adem to the Highline. Not only did they share a snack along the converted railway, but also they toured the halls of the Whitney Museum. He brought his sketchpad with him, taking notes on interesting pieces. His real inspiration came when the sun started to set, and Adem lounged on a long bench. Steve tried to capture it as best he could, but turned to his phone and captured the moment there. Steve still worked at it, on his own time, preferring the pace when nature doesn’t work against him.

Their last date was Adem’s choice again, and a week ago he invited Steve to a gym he frequented. “Do you have any contacts?” Adem asked, “I don’t want to break your glasses.”

Steve panicked. When the day came, he explained how his eyes were super sensitive. One touch and he’d faint, making contacts useless. He had a better option that would still preserve his identity at the cost of his dignity.

When Steve snapped the goggles on, Adem cackled so hard he bent over. “Oh – oh babe,” he wheezed, “You look so _adorable_ . I can’t – I can’t hit _you_.”

Pouting, he shoved at Adem before walking towards the ring. “I doubt you can hit me at all,” he said, challenging him. It wiped the mirth from his face, Adem gearing up for the fight.

They both got a few good punches in. Steve pulled most of his, conscious of his own strength. He even faked a few hits, acting like they did more damage that they would. Steve was impressed with how fast Adem was, the other man bouncing on his toes like a kangaroo.

He asked how long he’d been doing this once they’ve fought all they could. “Since I was young,” Adem told him, squirting his water bottle into his mouth. “After 9/11, I kinda had to. In the March after the attacks my uncle was cornered in an alley and had his jaw broken by some drunk racists. Mom was super scared for all of us, some days I swore she wasn’t able to do anything more than watch TV to see whether or not we’d be on the news.”

“My sister and I didn’t want her feeling like this, like she couldn’t protect us. We were walking home one day and saw fliers for these classes and signed up without our parents knowing. Said we were doing ‘volunteer work’. Sarai took the basic self-defense course while I tried boxing. Fell in love right away and haven’t stopped since.”

“Did you ever need to use your training?”

“Once or twice,” Adem admitted. He hid his face in his towel, “Bullies didn’t bother me after I bruised their gut. And men know you’re not interested when you give them a black eye.”

Steve hugged Adem, sighing. “I wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

“It’s a crazy world,” Adem said, “But sometimes you need to protect yourself. There won’t be a hero waiting around every corner.”

They changed and went back to Steve’s, ordering pizza on the way.

So with this dinner, they will reach date number five. Steve had been with Adem long enough that this important milestone shouldn’t be freaked out over to this extent. Lapis and Femi liked him, and while he hasn’t met any other members of Adem’s family he’s been told repeatedly how much they’d get along.

The reassurance cannot untie the knot his stomach has made of itself. “Yeah,” Steve sighed, grabbing the phone, “But not like this. Aren’t these types of dinners _supposed_ to have all these expectations? Where I answer questions and tell them my intentions, and at the end of the night they either give their blessings or forbid me and Adem from seeing each other again!”

Nat scoffed. “Steve not _everything_ is like what you see in the movies –“

“Nat –“

“You’re overcomplicating things,” Nat told him, “They already know you, they already _like_ you. Just don’t try and do too much, okay? Be yourself.”

“I can’t be _myself_ ,” Steve grumbled.

“Then be whatever stupid name you gave yourself,” Nat sighed, “I doubt it’s much different from who you are now –“

“But –“

“Hey Nat, who’re you talking to?”

Steve cursed, nearly dropping his phone. Bucky’s voice rang clear on the other end of the line. “James,” Nat said smoothly, “I was just biding my time for you to come back. You were gone so long, people might have gotten suspicious and our cover blown.”

“You’re on a mission?” Steve hissed. A sales clerk eyed him suspiciously, and he gave her a harried smile before walking deeper into the store. “Why are you taking calls when –“

“Listen,” Nat cut him off, “James, it’s just a _cover_ . I dialed randomly so I’m only talking with _static_ . Everything will be fine as long as we _keep_ our _cool_. Got it?” He didn’t need to think twice to understand whom she was really talking to. Nat hung up moments later, leaving him on his own.

Taking her advice, Steve breathed deep before resuming his search for an outfit. He found what he wore now, quickly returning home with his purchase. There was some delay, though, when he remembered there was more to buy. Making a quick detour, Steve ran into a nearby convenience store.

Steve walked the aisles as his phone loaded a list of things brought when meeting the family. He couldn’t use any of them. The first three all contained alcohol and the rest either he couldn’t find or knew wouldn’t work. Coming back to the drinks aisle, Steve scanned them all. A teen in a green vest past him, and Steve stopped him before he could get any farther. “Hey – hi,” he said, “I was wondering if you could tell me which of these were non-alcoholic?”

The ginger-haired teen shot him a blank look before turning it towards the drinks. “Sparkling cider,” he said, “And it’s on sale.”

“Thank you!” He found it easily, paying for it and leaving.

It sat on his coffee table, next to his bong. His nerves may be firing more than active trenches in the heat of the war, but he didn’t touch it. Steve knew how the smell clung to everything, and didn’t know what the Sharifs’ opinions were towards it.

Steve grabbed his glasses and slipped them overhead, then tugged on his jacket, picked up the bottle and headed out the door. Checking the time on his phone, Steve realized he’d left with a lot of time to spare. His harried pace slowed into a casual stroll, the Sharif home not far from his own. They lived above their restaurant, the awning still bright even in the dark of night. He smiled when it came into view, dialing the pace back up when it came into sight.

Their door was nestled between the Café and the bookstore. He slowed to a stop and rang the doorbell, waiting. Footsteps pounded from the other side, coming upon him. Adem greeted him, out of breath, with the largest smile. He wore a deep blue sweater and khaki pants. “Hey,” he said, “You’re early.”

“Is that… okay?” Steve asked, grin faltering, “I mean, to make a good impression.”

Adem rolled his eyes. “You’ve been stressed all day, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he told him, “But I didn’t smoke at all. Wasn’t sure how your parents felt ‘bout all that.”

“Smart choice.” Adem led him inside, “Take your shoes off and put them with the others, and I’ll take your jacket and –“ he eyed the bottle, “gift. You know you didn’t have to bring anything, right?”

“Is it bad that I did?”

“No,” he sighed, looping his arms around Steve’s shoulders, “It’s non-alcoholic. My parents are going to love you even more for that.” He kissed him then, free hand playing with Steve’s hair. Steve relaxed into the kiss grip loose on Adem’s hips. They try and deepen it, but Lapis called from the other room, asking what’s taking them long.

Breaking apart, Adam knocked his forehead against Steve’s nose. “I hope you’re ready,” he whispered, “now that there isn’t a line of customers interrupting, they can be as embarrassing as possible.”

“As long as it’s you who’s embarrassed and not me.”

Adem shoved at him, walking away and over to the closet with his jacket. Steve shuffled in to find the Sharifs standing around, small rugs strewn across the hardwood floor. By entering he drew all attention towards him. He recognized Lapis and Femi. Lapis wore a white hijab tonight, along with a pink blouse and dark slacks. Femi complimented her with a pink tie, white shirt and similar pants. Standing beside them were another couple. She’s much older, but Steve could tell it was Sarai. Her hijab was green, the same color as her blazer and suit pants. The man with an arm around her waist must have been Sarai’s husband, Simon. He dressed similarly to Steve, but with a red button-down and khakis. The final member was someone he saw in glimpses – Adem’s uncle Farrokh was closest to him. He wore a sweater like Adem’s in a yellow color and faded jeans.

“Hello,” Sarai started, walking over towards him, “You must be Grant.”

“Hi,” Steve said, placing his hand over his chest, “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“And you as well,” she said, “I’ve heard a lot of _good_ things about you from Demi.”

“Sarai…” Adem growled, taking his place beside Steve, “Can we please not do this now…”

“Demi?” Steve asked, glancing between the siblings, “Is that a –“

“A nickname,” Sarai told him, giggling, “it’s much cuter than Adem.”

Adem covered his eyes with the bottle, muttering, “Why did I think this is a good idea…”

“What do you have there, Adem?” Femi asked.

“It’s – uh, a gift,” Steve said, “I brought it. It’s _non-alcoholic_.”

“Oh you shouldn’t have,” Lapis said, reaching for the bottle. She inspected it, smiling. “Although, I’m glad you took the time to find something we could drink.”

“No trouble on my end.” He looked back down at all the rugs and gestured to them. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No, no we hadn’t even started the Isha when you rung the bell.”

“Isha?”

“Our evening prayer,” Femi told him, “We figured we would recite it now before you got here. Didn’t expect you to be early, Grant.”

Steve chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “I didn’t realize being early would cause any problems.”

“Oh nonsense,” Lapis said, rubbing his arm, “Punctuality is never something to apologize for.” Then, her eyes flashed with an idea as her smile unfurled into a grin. “But since you’re here, why don’t you join us.”

“Mom,” Adem sighed, stepping between them, “I’m sure he doesn’t –“

“If you two are serious it’s not like he won’t see you doing it.”

“Still, maybe he wasn’t expecting –“

He cleared his throat, interrupting them. “I’d be honored,” he said, “Like I told Adem, I’m really curious to learn more about his – I mean, _your_ religion.”

“See,” Lapis said, slapping Adem’s shoulder, “now go get him an extra prayer mat.” Adem did as told, returning shortly with another rug he laid out next to the others. They all faced the same direction. “Towards Mecca,” she explained, “each of our five prayers must be done this way.”

“How can you tell which way it is?”

“Practice,” she shrugged, smirking, “Although thankfully we have apps on our phones that we can use to help.”

“Wish we had those in our day,” Farrokh chuckled, “I remember one time when I was on a trip with some friends – ended up praying in the wrong direction. Didn’t even realize until we ran into another group of campers who let us borrow their compass. Was _I_ embarrassed!” The group laughed at his story, moving towards their respective rugs.

Adem walked over to the mat next to Steve’s, only for Femi to direct him to the front. “I thought maybe Grant would like to watch you lead us,” he said, “Tonight is about you, after all.” Blushing, Adem’s mouth thinned out. He didn’t argue, though, and took the mat in front of them all. Femi showed Steve where to stand. “You don’t have to say anything, but follow along in our movements. Watch us and you won’t have any problems.”

Steve nodded, mirroring the others at the foot of the mat. He looked forward to find Adem watching him with a worried frown on his face. Heart warming at the sight, Steve smiled at him. Communicating as best he could that this was all right, Steve mouthed his message of comfort. Two simple words, ‘I’m okay’, that Adem understood. Matching his smile, Adem turned around and began the prayer.

He didn’t know what any of them were saying. Most of his focus was on their arms and legs, trying to copy their placement instead of listening to the language. Steve had trouble at first, hands over his knees rather than above. And when he thought he had to put them behind his ears like he did the first time, the others raised them in front of his face. It was a bumpy transition, but Steve slipped into the pose like all the others only seconds after. Towards the end, Steve paid more attention to what was being said. The words rolled beautifully out their mouths, said with such conviction and belief it entered and filled his spirit. When they finished, everyone stood once more.

Steve bent to gather the mat, but Femi stopped him. “Please, you’re our guest,” he said, “Sarai and Simon can take care of it.” While the couple collected the mats, Steve was led into the other room towards the table. Lapis disappeared behind the kitchen doors with Adem, leaving him alone with his father and uncle.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Grant,” Farrokh said, “The food will be out shortly.”

“Adem spent a lot of time preparing it,” Femi told him, “I never see him work that hard in this kitchen. The one in the restaurant, sure, but that’s only because I pay him.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” Steve said, “He’s an excellent cook.”

“He should be,” Femi said, eyeing his daughter as she and her husband returned, “I’d hate to have had _two_ kids who can’t cook.”

Sarai rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who banned me from the kitchen, not the other way around.” Leaning towards Steve, she faux whispered, “I’m better with the customers. I might not have been born with culinary talent, but I married into it.”

Simon chuckled, grabbing for her hand. “The only reason I got my job was because she got banned. If it weren’t for her horrible cooking skills we never would have met!”

They conversed a little while longer until Lapis and Adem carried in plates filled with food. The longest, a white ceramic dish with strips of meat carved onto it. “Lamb,” Adem told him, “I hope that’s okay.”

Steve flashed his dimples before saying, “I like lamb.” Adem squeezed his shoulder, and then went about bringing the rest of dinner out. He took his seat last, between Steve and Femi, across from Farrokh. Lapis sat next to Steve, with Simon and Sarai on the other side of him.

“This all looks wonderful,” Steve said, “Thank you – both of you – so much.”

Lapis’s gaze softened as she smiled at him. “It was my pleasure.”

They slipped into silence after that, putting their plates together. Steve’s bottle of cider was cracked open, with Sarai, Simon, Adem, Steve, and Lapis having a glass. The older men were okay with not having any, letting the others have more.

Steve was cutting into his meat when Lapis asked him a question. “So, Grant, Adem said you are an artist?”

“I am.”

“Have you ever shown your art anywhere?” she asked, “He’s said that your paintings were beautiful.”

Steve chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten the courage to submit to any _big_ galleries, but I have sold a few pieces here and there in Manhattan.” Mainly to Tony, who hung most of them within Stark Tower. The only one that he kept out of that collection, a commissioned portrait of Pepper, hung in their shared apartment.

“Do you do anything else for work?” Femi asked, “Art is well and good, but it can’t pay _all_ the bills.”

“Dad –“

“I do get a monthly check from the government,” Steve told them, “I don’t know if Adem mentioned this as well, but I was a soldier –“

“Really?” Farrokh asked, “A military man? How many tours did you serve?”

“Well – um… it got to the point where it felt like I was _constantly_ seeing action,” Steve said, “I only retired recently, and sometimes a friend or two might call on me, asking for my opinion.”

“Did you have a high ranking?”

He chuckled. “I was a captain.”

Sarai speared her lamb, smirking, “Demi always did love a man in uniform…”

“Sarai!”

“There was this one time,” Sarai continued, ignoring Adem’s protests, “a fire broke out in the kitchen and one of our customers dialed 9-1-1. We got it under control before it spread, Demi working the fire extinguisher. Well… he still held it when this fireman walked in. One look and Demi sprayed the poor man by accident! He blushed the entire night…”

Adem dropped his cutler, hiding behind his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“What did you expect,” Simon said, “Sarai’s been waiting for this ever since _our_ dinner where you showed me the pictures you took of her making out with her Justin Timberlake poster.”

“Simon!” Sarai slapped his shoulder, blushing, “…I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

Adem smirked at his sister. “Grant hasn’t seen them, maybe after dinner –“

“Mariah Carey.”

His devious expression shifted into terror and then remorse, Adem picking his fork up and collecting some rice. Steve wanted to ask what Sarai meant, but decided to ease some of the pressure off of Adem. He reached below the table to squeeze at his knee, biting into a lamp strip. Adem laid his hand over his and returned the gesture.

Dinner went about as Steve expected after that. Sarai backed off of Adem after Lapis struck her on the back of her head when telling a detailed story about her brother’s prom experience.

The stories about Adem’s past, though, were plentiful. Steve learned a lot about his boyfriend that night, his favorite being how for a short time when he was five he wouldn’t go anywhere without his space helmet. He dragged it everywhere, including to a cousin’s wedding. “I still think her parents were mad at us for ruining the pictures,” Lapis giggled, “Although our Adem makes them look so much better!”

Adem piled more lamb onto his plate, mouth never empty. His face stayed red since the meal started.

Femi noticed Adem’s behavior. “Oh lighten up,” the older man shook his shoulder, “I’m sure Grant’s parents will put him through the same routine.”

Steve ducked his head, then, fork scraping against his plate. All eyes turned to him. “Um, actually…” he started, “my parents… they’re both dead.”

“Oh, oh no,” Lapis said, reaching across to him, “We’re so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” Steve said, “And it was so long ago…”

“Did you lose them young?”

“Yeah. My dad was a soldier who died in combat, my mom followed a little while later from… _cancer_.” He nearly slipped and said tuberculosis, but knew how strange that would have been given today’s level of healthcare.

Lapis frowned. “Did you have any relatives who stepped in to help?”

“No,” Steve told her, “But a really good friend took me in. Helped me take care of myself. I needed it… always getting into trouble and getting hurt. I knew a lot of doctors…” He glanced at Adem, “I was also kind of a sickly kid. Buck though was there through it all. Probably wouldn’t be here without him.”

“Your friend sounds like a very nice man,” Femi said.

Steve nodded. “And,” he turned to Adem, “he loves embarrassing me. Buck has so much dirt on me I’m sure I’ll regret introducing the two of you.”

Smirking, Adem said, “I’ll hold you to it.”

Dinner was nearly done after that. Lapis went to get dessert, a cheesecake from a nearby deli. “This was always Adem’s favorite,” she said while cutting him a slice. Tasting it, Steve understood why.

Dessert passed quickly, and soon enough the group returned to the living room. There they shared even more stories, getting to know each other better. At some point Steve glanced at his phone, frowning when he noticed the time.

“As much as I hate to say this,” he started, standing, “I have to get going. Promised a friend I’d help him with a project early in the morning.”

“We understand,” Femi said. He stood to meet him, clasping his hand in a tight shake. “It was wonderful to meet you properly. Our son made a wonderful choice.”

Adem whined, “ _Dad_!”

“Grant, please,” Lapis said, “we have so many leftovers, would you like to take some with you?”

“Oh no, Lapis, please –“

“Are you sure,” she continued, “Is there anything you might want to have?”

Biting his lip, an idea fluttered across his mind. “Well,” he hummed, “if you could tell me one thing… where did you get your mats?”

Lapis and Femi exchanged twin looks of confusion. “Our prayer mats?” she asked, “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I figured it might be nice to have one on hand for when Adem’s over so he’s not missing his prayers –“

Farrokh slapped Adem’s shoulder. “So that’s why you take so long to pray when you get home!”

“And if there were a few back at my place Adem could teach me more about how to pray so next time I won’t just be watching.”

Lapis, beaming, stood and pulled Steve into a tight hug. Surprised, Steve’s arms hovered before he wrapped them around her slowly. “You’re so good to my son,” she whispered, “I’m happy he’s found someone like you.”

Blushing, Steve whispered. “I’m happy he’s in my life.”

Pulling away, Lapis squeezed his arms. “It’s official, I like you.” Without breaking eye contact, she yelled, “Simon! Go get two of our extra mats for Grant to take home with him!”

“Your mats,” Steve started, “But – but you don’t have to –“

“Please, allow us to give them to you,” Lapis shushed him. “You brought us cider, we give you mats.”

Simon carried the two mats under arm, handing them off to Steve. “This is a good sign,” he said to him, “Means you’re practically family.”

After that he bid his farewells to the rest of the Sharifs. Adem waited for him, his jacket in hand. He held the mats for him as well when Steve bent down to slip on his shoes. Handing all three things to him, Adem lead Steve out the front door.

“Even though tonight was probably the most embarrassed I’ve ever felt,” he said, pouting, “…it was also the most _fun_.” His frown gave way to an enormous smile, the sight of it nearly causing Steve to trip.

They paused at the entrance, Steve in the same place he was when the evening first started. “I… I had a fun time, too,” he told him, “I really like your family.”

“They really like you, too.”

“ _I_ really like _you,_ Adem.”

Adem leaned forward and dropped a soft kiss to Steve’s waiting lips. “And I really _really_ like you, Grant.” They kissed one final time before Adem shut the door.

Walking back, Steve replayed their final moments together on a near constant loop. For such a simple kiss, it was their best so far. There was so much feeling in their embrace his lips tingled like they were struck by lightning. It was as hard to capture as sunlight on canvas, but he managed it. Most people would say it was perfect.

Except Steve: if he could, he would change one small detail.

That Adem called him by his real name.


	5. Semi-Retirement

Steve hadn’t spent a lot of time inside the Tower for a long while. After fixing the universe from Thanos’s cataclysmic plans, he treated it mainly as a place to work. He would come in, attended the necessary meetings, and then left as soon as he could. If he wanted to hang out with his friends, they came to his apartment. With their hectic schedules, it made more sense for them.

In today’s meeting, though, he decided to waste time in the sitting room. The large hosting space hadn’t been used as of late since reality returned to normal. Tony found throwing parties less suitable of his nights, preferring them spent in the company of Pepper. Steve glanced around, remembering back in the early days of their team, the events planned to celebrate innocent victories. Takedowns of HYDRA bases or stopping a super criminal or two were rewarded with lavish parties where dozens of people he didn’t know would approach him at the bar and almost always touch his muscles. No one ever really believed his suit wasn’t padded.

He set down on the long sectional, bag swung by his feet. Digging around, he pulled out his sketchpad. Steve swung his legs up, shifting around to get comfortable while he flipped over towards the last page he worked on.

It was a nice picture of Adem. He printed out that one photo he took on the Highline and clipped it to the edges of his paper. Steve preferred looking at this then constantly having to turn his phone back on. Comparing the two pictures, Steve frowned and removed the printed photo. He knew he could do better, and turned to the next page to try again. The process would repeat until Steve felt ready enough to transfer the sketch onto canvas. As it was, the sketchpad was filled with nothing but drawings of his boyfriend.

Seemed like everything in his life centered on him, as of late. At odd times, he’d find himself thinking about Adem. While jogging in the early morning, he wondered whether Adem might want to join him one day. Shopping at the store he always considered his choices with the added stipulation they fit within Adem’s diet. Steve had only realized he hasn’t had pork since before that day at the East River Side Park when he and Scott grabbed a bite to eat, and finding anything without that meat on the menu was difficult.

Adem even wriggled his way into team meetings, like today’s. He wasn’t texting the other man, but Steve thought of him. What he would say if he were there, how he might react to learning Steve was Captain America. His heart beat erratically and Steve sweated through his shirt the longer he focused on that scenario. There’s no telling if the way he wanted Adem to respond would actually be what happened. Still, Steve prepared for any situation where it may arise. Unlike most times, he didn’t want to jump into this without thought. He wanted to be prepared.

This left him open to being blindsided after the meeting let out. Carol finished going over the attack plan she and he crafted together the other day. The team – which included Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Clint, and Rhodey – were briefed on AIM’s base layout and the weapon they were after. She ended the meeting, telling them to be on the Quinjet in fifteen.

Sam and Bucky cornered him as he gathered his things.

Their friendship was a tricky thing, them always bickering. It was hard to tell whether they were mad at each other or having a normal conversation. Spending time with them, Steve knew that together they ribbed and roasted each other and preferred it this way. Bucky liked having someone not treat him with ‘kid gloves’ as he told Steve he was wont to do. And Sam liked it how Bucky never dropped their matches like Steve did, ending their playful jabbing with a final word and then walking away. But knowing them also clued Steve into the fact that when they were quiet, it must mean something wasn’t good.

“Hey,” Steve said, cautious with his movements, “Do you two… need anything?”

Sam shrugged. “Just wanted to see how you were doing?”

“…Good.”

“Good,” he nodded, “We’re doing good, too. Aren’t we Bucky –“

“What have you been up to?”

Steve’s eyes widened. Sam’s head dropped as he muttered out a few curses. “Dammit, Bucky I told you to let me lead up to it –“

“Please he could tell we were up to something –“

“Still there’s a little something called tact –“

“I know what tact is they didn’t mind wipe  _ that _ out of me –“

“With the way you act you’d think they  _ did _ –“

“Guys!” Steve shouted, drawing the attention back to him, “What are you two trying to do?”

They glanced between each other, mouths drawn in tight at the sides. Sam stepped up and spoke once more. “We’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little…  _ distant _ lately. And we want to see if you’re doing okay.”

Steve rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. “I’m  _ fine _ . Nothing –“

“Nat told us you’ve been up to something,” Bucky cut in, “She didn’t tell us  _ what _ but she said not to worry about it. Of course we’re going to do just that.”

“Nat…” Steve sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Guys, I appreciate you two being worried but really, nothing  _ bad _ is going on.”

“So you’re not like…” Sam shifted on his feet, glancing away, “annoyed we haven’t hung out in quite a while?”

Startled, Steve stepped back. He didn’t think that was true, but when he traced his memories back the majority of them were spent with Adem. And when he wasn’t with Adem Steve sought out Nat, because she was the only one who knew about him, and didn’t mind when he talked about his relationship. The other Avengers he never made time with, only happening to fall into outings. Like running into Wanda in SoHo and accompanying her through a few different stores. Or seeing Carol at the bar he liked going to and sharing a few drinks with her.

“You’ve been busy,” Steve started, treading lightly, “running missions, saving the world. And  _ I’ve _ been busy, too. But… that doesn’t mean we should have let our friendship fall to the wayside.” Steve smiled, dragging both men into a hug. “After this mission let’s see about having dinner, okay?”

They agreed, and then left for the Quinjet. Steve gathered his things and decided to wait for them in the Tower, knowing that they’d be back by early evening. It wouldn’t make sense for him to leave now.

Pencil pausing against the line of Adem’s nose, Steve frowned and moved on to the next page. The drawing left much to be desired, and he barely captured any of Adem’s spirit with that cheap caricature. 

Starting the outline again, a call interrupted him. Steve glanced towards the monitor, it flashing a bright green as someone tried to reach them. “FRIDAY? Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Banner calling from New Asgard, do you want me to answer?”

Steve smiled. He hadn’t heard from Bruce since he and Thor left for Sweden with the Asgardian refugees. Understandable, though, as they were helping a lost people rebuild their homeland. Like Steve, the two original Avengers retired so they could focus on other pressing issues. Instead of starting a new life, however, they were starting a new nation. “Sure,” he said, standing, “I’d love to see him.”

He walked over to the monitor as FRIDAY answered, Bruce’s face flashing on the screen. Bruce peered into the camera, looking around. When he finally saw Steve, he smiled. “Hey!” he said, “Steve, I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Didn’t have much else to do today, so thought I’d hang around.”

“Are you alone?”

Steve nodded. “A team was just sent out, and everyone else is either busy with their own standalone adventures or having a life.” Leaning forward, Steve asked, “What’s been going on with you lately?”

“Little to no sleep, that’s what.”

He winced. “Repairs not going too well?”

“They were a little slower than expected,” Bruce explained, “We were supposed to have finished the grand ballroom of our palace weeks ago, but it turned out Thor was diverting the builders elsewhere on another project.”

“Really? What’d he want?”

“He built me a lab!” he whispered, face split from the sheer joy radiating from inside of him, “Surprised me with it the other day. I’ve been so busy testing out everything he installed I barely have time to sleep – which I’m pretty sure makes Thor regret ever doing this. He came in demanding I take a break, maybe nap, but I’m too…  _ excited _ to sleep. I needed to tell someone!”

Steve chuckled, Bruce’s giddiness infectious. “I’m really happy for you. That was a sweet gift.”

And he knew Thor would never regret the shine he created in Bruce’s eyes. Ever since they got together, the god of thunder sought to give Bruce a reason to smile each day. It was what kept him going, during the post-snap reality. With the dust of half the world floating in the air, Bruce never wanted to leave his lab again. Near the beginning he’d look sickly with how poorly he took care of himself. They were all going through their own stuff, however, and didn’t have the wherewithal to make Bruce eat or sleep, even shower.

Thor did. Helping Bruce get back to basic functioning centered him in a way. Gave him something to look forward to when it seemed like nothing was left. In helping Bruce he motivated himself to live beyond killing Thanos.

Steve remembered one day walking in on them in the lab. It was nothing scarring, just Thor holding Bruce, both swaying in the center of the lab. Thor glanced up at him, the tiniest shake of his head telling him that now wasn’t a good time. He left, returning an hour later. In that time, he couldn’t forget the look of Thor’s gaze, the one that screamed he’d protect Bruce to his last breath. It spoke of love louder than anything.

“And the rest of the city?” Steve asked, “How’s it coming along?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Public housing’s been a breeze, but Loki keeps adding in plans for statues of himself in different areas. It’s bad enough I had to stop Thor from commissioning a statue of  _ me _ –“

“If you need a portrait though…”

“Please,” Bruce sighed, “I already have the title of King of New Asgard, that’s more than enough for me.”

Steve sighed. “You ever think this would happen?”

“To me? No,” Bruce told him, “I never had time to think about stuff like that. It  _ does _ feel like I’m living someone else’s fantasy though, sometimes. But I’m learning to deal with it one day at a time. It helps that Thor offered to handle all the politics – knowing me I’d just start an international incident.” They chuckled at that, Steve imagining some of the shenanigans Bruce would stumble into. Regality couldn’t smooth away the awkwardness of the other man.

“Bruce? What are you doing?” Thor spoke from outside the view of the camera. Bruce flushed, turning towards him. He stuttered out an excuse, giving the god of thunder the chance to sneak into frame. “Steve! How are you?”

“I’m doing well. You?”

“I’m fine,” Thor sighed, mock glaring at Bruce, “Would be better if I didn’t find  _ somebody _ out of bed.”

Bruce huffed. “I told you I’m not tired –“

“You almost fell from the balcony –“

“But I didn’t –“

“Because Valkyrie was there to catch you before you did lasting damage to yourself.” He grabbed Bruce and tucked him under his arm. “Luckily I managed to clear my schedule for the day, so I’m taking you to bed and we’re going to slumber in our fantastic bedding that only  _ I’ve _ been able to enjoy these past few days.”

Steve noticed that through all of Bruce’s grumblings, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face. “It was nice seeing both of you again.”

“We should get together sometime soon,” Thor told him, “before New Asgaard is built. That way we can catch up before seeing each other at the grand welcoming party.”

“I’d like that.” They signed off, ending the call. Steve stayed there, thinking about Bruce and Thor. No matter how many times he saw them, they still seemed like the oddest pairing. He remembered when Bruce and Nat used to be an item, and thinking that was a good idea. Chuckling, Steve knew he had been seeing what he wanted to. Back then he would cheer on even the hint of romance for others, heart too caught up in the past to change anything for himself.

The present was a different story, and he was glad for it. Happy he allowed himself the chance of finding love, and the luck at being with Adem. “Now,” he sighed, “if only I had the courage to tell him about the… other part of me…”

Sirens blared, jarring him from his thoughts. The soft lighting of the room turned harsh and red. FRIDAY announced, on a loop, “Danger! Alert! Danger! Alert!”

“FRIDAY,” Steve said, tapping away at the monitor, “What’s going on?”

A map of New York blipped onto screen and a few blocks away a red dot pulsed repeatedly. “There’s a rampage happening, three criminals causing chaos. Police are on the scene but are unable to contain their powers.”

“Dammit…” Steve said, “Are there any Avengers who haven’t been called away on active duty?”

“Checking… Spiderman is available, however everyone else has already been sent out on missions.”

Weighing his options, Steve asked, “What can you tell me about the criminals? What’re their powers?”

A video feed overtook the map, showing the scene out on the streets. A woman flew around, dodging bullets as she fired beams from her hand. Another criminal, a man, swung a miniature wrecking ball that knocked over police cars. The last member was a hybrid wolf monster, claws stained with blood. Three against one wasn’t a fair fight, and Steve wouldn’t let Peter face them alone.

“Contact Peter, tell him to get suited up and give him the coordinates,” Steve said, striding away, “I’ll meet him there.”

His costume fit like it did the last time he wore it, the helmet cold and biting from disuse. Steve jumped into it like there was never any gap between when he took it off and now. Muscle memory made it so suiting up took less than three minutes. The shield was a comforting weight, and he smiled staring down into its smooth surface.

He ran towards the garage, finding the first motorcycle and hopping on. “FRIDAY,” he said, revving the engine, “What’s Peter’s ETA?”

“Peter is on his way, ten minutes out.”

“ _ Okay _ .” Cutting through traffic, the engine powered over the gasps and screams. But he could tell his entrance was noticed. From his periphery, he saw civilians and bystanders gaping, pointing at him. It was a sight, given his very public retirement. Tony will have a field day trying to explain this at the next press conference.

Coming upon the scene, he skidded to a halt and dismounted. Charging forward, Steve blocked one of the beams from the woman. It bounced and shot a hole into one of the neighboring buildings.

“Well look who decided to join the party?” She yelled, “Carl! Clyde! We’ve got an Avenger!”

“Just the one, Karla?” the man with the wrecking ball chuckled, “I thought for sure there were more.”

“Be glad it’s  _ only _ one,” Karla said, “We’ve already wasted enough time because of you and Clyde!”

The wolf man – Clyde – was a quiet fellow, baring his teeth and snarling. He lunged for Steve, scratching at his shield. Steve forced all his weight on him, bringing them down, ducking out of the way of Carl’s weapon.

“It’s an honor, Captain, really,” Carl told him, advancing, “When we heard you were retiring we figured no one would ever get the chance to kill ya. You’ve really made my day!”

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you.” Steve rolled off of Clyde, flipping forward and throwing his shield at Carl. Carl called back his wrecking ball, catching the shield in time to knock it off course. What he couldn’t block was Steve’s following uppercut that sent him flying. Keeping his momentum, Steve grabbed his shield and dashed away as a scorching hot light beam followed him. He dove behind just as the beam reached him.

“Don’t be shy, Captain!” Karla sung as she flew overhead, “There’s no fun in that.”

He noticed how she kept to a pattern, hovering in three circles. Counting down to where he thought she might be, Steve stood and readied to throw his shield again. He paused, Karla nowhere to be seen in the sky. “What the –“

“Peekaboo!” She appeared behind and blasted him, knocking him yards away. Steve tumbled into Clyde, his claws digging into his side.

He cursed, whacking the wolf man away with a smack to the side of his head. He yelped and put some distance between them. The other two covered other sides, trapping him in a triangle.

“I feel kind of bad,” Carl chuckled, swinging the wrecking ball slowly, the chain rattling menacingly. “You know, ganging up on a senior citizen.”

“Then let’s even the playing field!”

A web shot out from the wayside, sticking to the ball. Peter stood on a streetlight and pulled, nearly tugging the weapon from Carl’s grip. Carl latched on tight, unwilling to give. Peter waved, his lenses closing into a squint. “Hi Cap! Did I come at a good time?”

“The best.” Steve blocked a blast from Karla, knocking it towards Clyde who ducked out of the way in time. Clyde dodged and rushed him, Steve with barely any time to catch his punch. They exchanged blows, Steve kicking him in the gut and Clyde scraping at his chest. His claws nearly punctured his armor, leaving three jagged lines over his star.

Peter swung around the area, chased by Karla. He leapt out of way of her beams with ease, always moving seconds before they landed. Carl was strewn on the ground, recovering at a glacial pace. Steve didn’t worry about him as he worked on wearing out the wolf man.

Clyde’s attacks became more and more reckless, easier for Steve to block. Pouncing, Steve rolled out of the way and slammed his shield to the back of his head. Then, before he could fade into unconsciousness, Steve picked him up and threw him to the sky.

Peter, sensing his plan, led Karla into Clyde’s path. They collided, both falling from the sky in a heap. Steve sagged from exhaustion, his muscles protesting from not having done this in so long. However, before he could rest, the wrecking ball flew his way.

Steve stepped back at the exact moment it whizzed past his head. “Stay still won’t you?” Carl growled, tugging to over so it shifted on its way back. Steve ducked, tossing his shield as the ball returned to its owner.

Carl smirked and didn’t move. A pit of dread opened in his stomach, not caring for the man’s sudden change in expression. His shield whirled directly towards Carl’s chest. Except it never landed, Carl catching it in his hand. Then he glowed, a liquid rushing over him completely, solidifying seconds later. “Thanks!” he said, dropping the shield, “Needed the power boost.”

Steve’s eyes widened when he saw Carl hurl himself forward. Rolling away, he watched Carl completely tear a car in half with his punch. He recognized the metal coating his skin now, the sheen of vibranium familiar.

“You absorbed my shield?”

“Neat trick, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry Cap!” Peter called, swinging in, “I’ve got this.”

“No, Spiderman –“ Carl knocked him away with the back of his hand, sending him towards the police barricades. Peter bowled them over, groaning.

“Now that the brat’s gone,” he cracked his knuckles, “It’s jus’ you and me, Captain.”

Steve didn’t let Carl get close, backing away as he advanced. He eyed his shield lying a few feet away, hoping that the other man didn’t try anything so he could regain his weapon.

“I don’t think so!” The wrecking ball nearly hit, but once more Steve dove out of the way. He picked up his shield and deflected it as it made its way back. Carl pounded on his shield with the ball, backing him into a corner. Close enough to forgo his weapon; Carl punched at Steve’s shield, shaking it. Still he held strong, even as every blow pushed him further and further into a trap. Chuckling, Carl raised his fists over his head. “I’m gonna be famous for this…”

Steve grit his teeth, preparing for the worst. It never came. Peeking out from behind his shield, he noticed Carl’s hands coated in webbing. Peter held him at bay, pulling tight. “If you’re going to do anything, Cap,” he said, “Do it now!”

Smiling, Steve reared his shield back and knocked it into Carl’s jaw. The uppercut sent him soaring, wrecking ball going in a different direction. Steve tracked its arc, realizing it’d be landing in the middle of a group of onlookers. “Peter!”

“I got him, I got him –  _ go! _ ”

Steve ran, yelling at everyone to get clear. Phones down, they noticed what he did and scrambled. He noticed a man get knocked down, unable to get up, and pushed himself even faster. The ball was going to hit.

Sliding, Steve held his shield up and blocked the wrecking ball. It hit his shield with a mighty clang before sliding off to the side, the chain pooling at his legs. Civilian safe, Steve breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to check on the other person, to see if they were all right. His voice caught in his throat.

Adem gazed at him with such wonder. “Whoa…” he whispered, “you… you saved me…”

Steve whipped his head forward, blushing. “All in a days work, sir,” he grumbled, lowering his voice an octave or two. He pulled himself up and then, after debating it for a second, helped Adem to stand.

He held his hand for a beat too long, it seizing and falling back to his side. Clearing his throat, Steve turned towards the scene of the fight. The police were rounding the criminals up, the first two knocked out already in cuffs while Carl was being carried on a dolly wrapped in webbing.

Peter bounced his way over, and Adem still hadn’t left his side.

“Hey, Cap,” he said, “It looks like everything’s wrapped up!”

“Good, that’s… that’s good.”

Peter skewed his head to the side. “Are you okay? You’re talking –“

“We should get back to the Tower,” Steve rushed out, blushing. Adem, still staring at Steve, watched this all with a curious shade to his gaze. In an awkward daze, Steve bowed, dipping his shield strangely. “ _ Sir _ .” Then, realizing what he did, Steve fled the scene in a stiff half jog.

Peter hurried after him. “Cap? Cap are you okay?” he asked, “Did that guy hit you a bit too hard –“

“Peter,” he hissed, “Seriously, Tower.” His tone didn’t broker an argument. Peter nodded and whipped himself up to the roof of a nearby building, swinging his way over.

Sighing, Steve made it to his motorcycle and remounted it. Looking back at the crowd, it was very obvious Adem was still staring at him. Sarai and Simon were talking to him, checking him over. His focus was on Steve’s and vice versa.

Revving the engine, Steve disappeared.

Peter was waiting for him in the garage. His mask was off, hair sweaty and matted to his forehead. He smirked, waiting patiently as Steve wheeled his bike back to its spot and removed his helmet.

Unable to take it any longer, Steve barked out a loud, “What?”

“Who was that just now?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“I can refresh your memory, if that helps?” Peter said, “A little shorter than you… curly hair, strong nose and jaw… nice eyes, a little pretty –“

“Only a little?” Steve bit his lip, unwittingly giving himself away. Sighing, he leaned on his motorcycle and crossed his arms. “I… may know him.”

“As in…”

Face as red as Peter’s suit, Steve kept his gaze lowered as he answered through clenched teeth. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Whoa holy shit,” Peter breathed out, “I… I didn’t expect that.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Captain America likes men. History was straight-washed –“

“Oh, no,” Peter started, shaking his head, “No, that’s not… Tony told me when I told him I was –“ He stopped, now working on a serious blush of his own.

Steve finally looked at him, brow raised. “You were…?”

“I – I was…” Steve wrung his mask, twisting it into a knot, “I was questioning my  _ own _ sexuality.”

“…Oh.”

“He was really helpful,” Peter continued, “Said that the Avengers was the best place for me to be because there were a lot of others like me. After he told me he was bi he mentioned you, too. Thor and Dr. Banner… Carol and Valkyrie… and Sam! I… It made me feel better.”

Steve smiled, reaching forward to squeeze Peter’s shoulder. “We’re always here if you want to talk,” he said, “About girl problems  _ and _ boy problems.”

“Thanks,” Peter said, returning Steve’s grin with his own, “And… I’m here if you want to do the same. I mean, with boy talk… since you, you know…”

He chuckled, “Yes, I know…” Biting his lip, he weighed the option in his mind. What he’d been thinking about has bothered him these past few weeks, and with Nat busy there wasn’t anyone he could talk to. “I really like him,” Steve said, “And he likes me. But he doesn’t like  _ me _ .”

“I… don’t follow.”

Steve explained his situation. Having met Adem as Grant and getting to know him and his family, falling for him; and the gnawing guilt in his heart every time Adem calls him by his other name. “I want to tell him, let him into my life I just… I don’t know if it’s the right decision,” he sighed, “What if we don’t last? What if this is a deal breaker? What if he… what if he gets hurt?” That scenario upset him the worst, as he could never plan far enough ahead to do anything to help.

Peter didn’t say anything at first. He frowned, thinking. Then, he said, “I… don’t have much experience about relationships to give you a good answer –“

“It’s okay –“

“But,” Peter continued, “I know what it’s like to lie to someone you care about. You think you’re doing it for the right reasons, but no matter how hard you try it always ends up coming out whether you want to or not. Sometimes it’s better to tell someone the truth yourself then letting them find out. If you trust them, then it’ll all be okay. Did I make sense?”

Steve nodded, frowning. “Yeah, yeah that’s… that’s good advice.” He waved Peter away, “I’ll write the report. And… thank you.”

“No problem,” Peter said, slipping his mask back on. “And thanks, too. I already missed two periods… Ned was covering for me, but –“

“Go.”

“Gotcha!”

Steve watched Peter hurry into the elevator. His words echoed in his head, kicking up the dust of the past few days. Alongside that, the memory of Adem’s curious gaze was burned inside his mind.

He had a lot to think about.


	6. When Two Worlds Collide

The smoke curled and filled the room from where Steve breathed it out, joint limp between his fingers. He watched as beams of light cut across it, highlighting where the wisps were. Steve dragged his fingers across a few, twisting around them like his legs in the covers. Giggling, he waved his hand back and forth. “This is some pretty good shit…”

He’d been in his room for a while now. Waking up that morning, Steve felt no desire to leave his apartment. Steve decided the day was better spent in his bed. He left it at certain points – to relieve himself, fetching snacks and his weed box – but other than that he nested.

Entertainment was easy to come by, especially in his affected state. At one point he spent thirty minutes staring at the ceiling because Steve imagined himself painting on it. Then, once broken free from the trance, Steve grabbed for his sketchpad and drew what he saw. The idea for the art was nothing new for him. Adem’s face became a recurring theme in his work, pencil drawing the lines of it without even needing to be told. This time he surrounded Adem with soft lilies and had him backlit by a full, glowing moon. Instead of painting on the ceiling, Steve marked the page with the dimensions of a canvas he’d buy to paint it.

“Adem,” Steve sighed, tapping the sketchpad against his chest, “Adem Adem Adem…” He said the name one more time in a deeper growl, the register he used for Captain America the one time and chuckled. It had been two weeks since they met like that. Steve was worried Adem would start piecing things together, but he hadn’t even realized he was looking at a puzzle.

They had dinner together the next night, Steve cooking a simple pasta dish for them to share. Adem recapped what happened, what he missed, and his near-death experience was a mere footnote. Steve put on the concerned boyfriend routine, asking for more details. His concern was waved off, Adem preferring not to talk about it. He should have been glad for it, but the tight lips from his boyfriend piqued his interest.

“Really?” Steve asked as they cleaned the dishes, “Saved by Captain America and you don’t have much to say? He’s not one Avenger to bat an eye at…”

Adem rolled his eyes, handing him a bowl. “Why? Think I’d leave him for  _ you _ ?”

Blushing, Steve hummed at the back of his throat. “It’s not like anyone  _ wouldn’t _ want to date a superhero.”

“Oh my God, you  _ are _ jealous!”

“No,” Steve said, turning to face him, “No I am  _ not _ jealous of – of  _ him _ .”

“Sure…”

“What I  _ meant _ was there’s a lot of  _ appeal _ to dating a superhero,” Steve continued, grabbing for the dishtowel. He rung it nervously in his grip, bringing to surface a few of the worries he held close to his heart. “There’s the body, for one… and the uniform. It’d never be a dull moment, and he’d always have a story… plus if you ever had to introduce him, I mean – ‘This is Captain America, my boyfriend’ has a nice ring to it!” The longer he kept talking, the more hysterical he sounded.

“Grant,” Adem reached for him, stopping him before he tore his towel in half, “Grant, are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, moving back over to the sink. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I… I don’t know what happened.”

“You sure?”

“No, I…” Steve sighed, rubbing at his eye, “I know.”

Adem touched him lightly on the shoulder, hesitatingly. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

“I don’t,” Steve admit, “I… I let my insecurities get the better of me, just then.” He nodded, giving Adem the go ahead to stop hovering and squeeze his shoulder, running his hand up and down the curve of it. “Usually things have blown up in my face by now. Sometimes I feel I’m not allowed to have nice things or… or  _ normal _ things.” He smiles, reaching up to lay his hand over Adem’s. “I’m scared one day things might change and  _ this _ … us… might not work, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“Grant,” Adem started, “I want to thank you for telling me this, for being honest. And you’re not alone feeling like this. Sometimes I look at you and think how lucky I am to have found you… and the next thing I know I’m spiraling down a dangerous set of ‘what ifs’. But I catch myself, every time, like I learned to. Remind myself that there’s no point in worrying about what might happen because then I forget to enjoy what  _ is _ happening.”

“…That’s really good advice.”

“Thanks,” he said, “paid a lot of money for it. Now I can’t promise that things won’t change… but I can tell you that whatever does, I won’t let it affect our relationship. Can you make the same promise?”

Steve wasn’t sure he could. Adem trusted so easily, he doubted the other man even considered the secret Steve held back. That his boyfriend used to be one of the world’s greatest heroes – still was when the siren call proved to loud to ignore. How he’d been lying to him from the moment they met. Would Adem  _ want _ to be with him after the truth came out? If he did, would things change too much for them to ever go back to where they were? The questions were too much and filled his mind with apprehension. But then Steve glanced at Adem’s adoring expression and found himself agreeing with his boyfriend, even with his soul in turmoil.

“Good,” Adem told him. “Because,” he continued, grinning, “I hate seeing you upset. Especially about things that could  _ never _ happen – like me and Captain America.”

Steve blinked out of his stupor. “What?”

“You really thought I had a chance with  _ the _ Captain America?” he asked, laughing, “Babe, that’s so sweet. Completely impossible – but  _ sweet _ .”

“How could it be impossible?” Steve asked, returning to washing his dishes, “You’re…  _ you _ . Gorgeous, Smart, Funny –“

“A man,” Adem cut in, “Also brown and  _ Muslim _ . I’m enough of a realist to admit that a guy who dresses himself up in an American flag might never give me the time of day unless he had to.” Then, to himself, he whispered, “Seemed pretty upset to be rescuing someone like  _ me _ anyway…”

Steve bit his lip; unaware that’s how he looked to his boyfriend. He caught himself before he apologized, instead asking after what he said.

“Only that I don’t need a Captain America when I have my own slice of beef right here.” Adem pecked him on the cheek. “You’re better than  _ any _ guy – especially some cranky, uptight baby boomer.”

He blushed at the unknowingly backhanded compliment. “Still… you don’t  _ really _ know Captain America. He might not be at all what you think?”

“…Why does it sound like you  _ want _ me to leave you for him?” Adem asked, “Is that what you want?”

Steve sighed, dropping the still dirty bowl in the sink. He grabbed Adem, wrapping him in his arms. “I don’t know what I want,” he said, kissing the top of his head, “except  _ you _ . You’re the only thing I’m sure about.”

A creak from outside his room startled him out of the memory. His ears perked up like a cocker spaniel, and slowly he rose from out his cocoon. Focusing, Steve began hearing a few familiar voices.

“You’re making too much noise, Bird Brain.”

“Well not all of us have secret spy training –“

“God can you two not argue? I’m sure Steve knows we’re here by now.”

“Nah, look around – he’s not here.”

“Smell again, he’s  _ definitely _ here – and probably in a good mood.”

Huffing, Steve dragged himself out of bed and over towards the door. He opened it to find Nat, Sam, and Bucky huddled close in the center of his room. Brow raised, he met each of their stares and said, “Seriously?”

“Whoa,” Sam scowled, nose wrinkling, “did you just come from a music festival?”

Nat smirked and trailed her gaze down his body. “Maybe, considering how he’s dressed.”

Steve pouted, following the path she made with his own eyes. He hadn’t changed out of his sleepwear – a novelty tank top Tony bought him with his shield on it and star-patterned booty shorts – and didn’t see the need to given today was supposed to be spent without company. Folding his arms across his chest, the mask of annoyance slipped back on. “What are you guys doing here?”

Bucky smiled, reaching over to slap him on the shoulder. “We’re visiting!”

“Why?”

“Do we really need a reason to visit?”

“Without notice it must be something urgent…”

“It’s really nothing,” Bucky told him, “We had some free time and wanted to spend it with you, is that so hard to believe?”

Steve’s expression cracked, softening at the plaintive look Bucky threw him. “It’s not… sorry, you caught me at a weird time –“

“Oh,” Nat hummed, glancing behind at his still foggy bedroom, “Were we…  _ interrupting _ ?”

“No!” he said, quickly closing his door before anymore smoke could escape, “No, I was all alone when you three decided to traipse on in.” Glaring at them yet again, he continued, “Speaking of, did anyone see you come here?” Now that he’s had time to digest their entrance, his high had fallen low into slight paranoia. At least three different plans were forming over what to do if someone figured out where he lived.

Nat shut them down immediately. “Of course not, Pineapple Express. You think we’re that green? Disguises were on at all times.” She gestured to her hoodie and sunglasses. Bucky followed her lead and waved his hat around by the brim. Steve turned to Sam, waiting.

“What?” he said, “I’m in the sky ninety-percent of the time and I wear goggles. I don’t need to hide my face.”

“Fair enough,” Steve sighed, “But really can you stop with these surprise visits? It’s not hard to send a text.”

“Says the literal grandpa,” Nat scoffed, dropping onto the couch. Bucky and Sam joined her, sitting on either side of her. “So, are you going to be a good host and get us something to drink?”

He fetched them a few bottles of water, grumbling the entire time. As he searched through his fridge, he listened to them talk amongst themselves. Nothing that would make his skin flush, Steve glad the topic of his room dropped as easily as it was brought up. When Nat found herself alone, he’ll scold her for the jab.

Coming back, he saw Bucky flipping through one of the books he left on his table. “Huh,” he said, “Have things really changed since the last time we were over?”

“What?”

Bucky flashed him the cover of the book he held, a copy of the Quran he bought. Coming home after visiting Adem, he stopped into the neighboring bookstore and saw it there. “I’m learning,” he told them, “There are so many things that we never had the chance to know before, and with all this free time it seemed like it’d be an interesting read. I even picked up a Bible to refresh my memory.” It sat nearby, marked like the Quran when he noticed similarities. Using what he knew as a comparative point made understanding Adem’s religion easier than before.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing with your free time?” Nat asked, grinning, “ _ Studying _ .”

He answered her through grit teeth. “Besides my art and hanging out with you…  _ yes _ .” Steve cleared his throat, clapping. “But my life is so boring, I want to hear what you guys’ve been up to!” It was an obvious segue, and he knew if it were about anything else Nat would tear down the same road she was on before. Except she let it go and filled him in on what he missed.

Steve listened intently as the three of them described previous missions, giving excruciating detail to near-death stunts and battles. Sam jumped up from his seat when regaling them with how he managed to fly a bomb out to a lake and drop it in time before the town the Skrulls used for cover blew to bits. He laughed with the others at Sam’s excitement. “It sounds like there’s never a dull moment on missions…”

“You know you  _ can  _ join us from time to time,” Bucky said.

He shook his head. “No, guys, I’m  _ retired _ –“

“That didn’t stop you from helping out Peter.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You were all busy, of course I wouldn’t have sat on my ass and did nothing. The world’s already in good hands… and I’m really happy where I’m at now.”

Sam scoffed. “Oh come on, what does retirement have that the field doesn’t?”

He was about to answer when a knock sounded at his door. Frowning, he turned to it.

“Expecting more company?” Nat asked, lilting with humor.

“No,” Steve told her, “Like I said, today was  _ supposed _ to be a me day. You guys didn’t invite anyone else, did you?”

“Everyone was busy except Tony,” Bucky shrugged, “And we were going for  _ subtlety _ .”

Steve didn’t even want to consider what would happen if Tony appeared without warning. Tony wouldn’t have used the door, preferring to enter through the window if anything. The thought comforted him as he went to answer the knocking, believing it’d probably be a neighbor if anything.

It wasn’t a neighbor.

“Grant,” Adem said, “hey.”

Steve’s grip on the door tightened considerably. “Adem, hey!” he said, whispered, “What are – what are you doing here?”

Adem frowned, skewing his head to the side. “Slow day so my folks let me go early, thought we could hang… I didn’t come at a bad time, did I? I tried texting but you weren’t answering…” He glanced at his outfit, “Have you been dressed like this all day?”

Before he could answer, Nat called to him. “Hey! Who’s at the door?”

Adem peeked out from behind Steve’s shoulder and saw Nat, Bucky, and Sam watching from the couch. “I’m not…  _ interrupting _ , am I?”

“ _ Grant _ ,” Bucky says, Steve not needing to turn around to know the shark-like expression waiting for him. “Grant, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Steve sighed, kneading at his brow. “I’m so not high enough for this…”

Adem tapped at Steve’s chest, “Grant?”

“I’m really sorry for whatever happens today,” Steve said, hand wrapping around Adem’s, “and hope you don’t hold any of what they say against me?” He dragged Adem into the room, motioning to the others. “Everyone, this is Adem, my…  _ boyfriend _ . Adem, these clowns are my friends.”

“Your friends… your fr – your  _ friends _ !” Adem glowed, smiling at all of them, “Awesome! I can’t believe I finally get to meet you guys. Grant’s always been a little tight-lipped when it came to you.”

Bucky glances at Steve, smirking. “Well  _ Grant _ has always been shy… not one to share with the class.” 

“Yeah,” Adem chuckled, “doesn’t even have an Instagram.” He turned to Steve, squeezing his hand. “It’s not a bad time though, right?”

Steve’s expression softened, and he returned the gesture. “No, it’s never a bad time when you’re here.” The cooing from his peanut gallery made him clam up, and he glared at them with a fierce blush. “Although…”

“Lighten up, Grant,” Sam said, “It’s about time we met your boyfriend. You’ve been dating – what? Three, four months?”

“Actually,” Adem said, “Six.”

“ _ Six _ months.” Bucky choked on his drink, Nat slamming his back. “This is  _ way _ overdue.”

“That’s what I kept saying…” Adem looked between them, wincing. “You don’t mind if I ask who you are? All I have are names…”

“Not a problem,” Bucky said, reaching out with his prosthetic to shake Adem’s hand. Steve glanced at it; glad that he activated the nanotech Shuri installed to make it look like a regular prosthetic fake limb instead of the vibranium metal they’re used to. “I’m Bucky.”

“So  _ you’re _ Bucky,” Adem said, shaking his hand. He barely reacted to his prosthetic, a fact Steve was relieved at. “Steve probably told me the most about you.”

“Did he?”

“How could I not, Buck,” Steve chuckled, “We were barely out of each other’s sight growing up.”

“Like I’d let you out of mine…”

“Well, I’m sure he must have mentioned me,” Natasha said, holding her hand out, “the name’s Kimmy Wong.”

Adem froze, eyes darting to Steve before finding Natasha’s again. “That’s a… nice name. Wong – is it from your father?”

“Yeah, my mom’s maiden name is Chu –“

“Nat!” Steve hissed. He bumped his head against Adem’s whispering, “She’s a horrible person.”

“I’m also one of your best friends!”

“…That, too.”

Sam introduced himself last. “Don’t worry, out of these three I’m probably the most normal.”

After that exchange, Adem took his seat on the leather chair. Steve went to fetch him a drink as well, making it a short trip. He loved his friends but didn’t trust them at all when it came to this.

Hand to his chest, he bit back a gasp as his heart beat at double its normal speed. “What a waste of a good high…” Steve sighed, coming back in with the bottle of water. He sat on the floor between Adem’s legs, purring softly when Adem threaded his fingers through his hair.

The longer he mixed company – mixed worlds – the more on edge Steve became. He focused on each word shared between them, barely contributing at all. There was no reason to worry, his friends professionals. They wouldn’t let anything slip that wasn’t their intention.

But because giving him palpitations was a shared hobby, there were many close calls. They dangled the truth out of reach, but toyed with the length of the rope. Swung from heights without care for a safety net beneath them.

Bucky danced around their shared backstory, never giving too much away about how long ago Steve’s childhood was. There was some creative liberties taken on a few things, but he rolled with whatever came out of Bucky’s mouth, like about his pre-serum physique.

“He was such a scrawny dude,” Bucky chuckled, “Like a butterfly could land on Grant and break his bones – that’s how weak he was! It was a hassle for him to keep any of the dates I got him.”

“You never went on second dates with them either,” Steve grumbled, leaning back into Adem’s touch.

Bucky smirked. “That’s because I never  _ needed _ a second date.” Nat smacked his shoulder. “What?”

“So Grant?” Adem asked, “When did you become the stud we know today if you were like  _ that?” _

Steve bit his lip, thinking of a solution. Nat answered for him. “Army.”

“Really?”

He nodded, continuing off Nat’s point. “Yeah, they meant what they said about the molding and crafting in their pitch… It was like once I got through basic training, I fell asleep and woke up looking like this. My commanding officer called me the perfect soldier.”

“More like a  _ super _ soldier…” Sam muttered under breath. He winced, however, after Nat stepped on his foot.

“It wasn’t that easy,” Bucky said, “First he needed to find a recruiter who would  _ take _ him. And that was only after he  _ lied _ –“

“Bucky!”  
“You lied to the military?” Adem dragged Steve’s face up to look him in the eyes. “Whoa… I guess you were kind of a rebel…”

“Just forged some medical documents,” Steve mumbled, cheeks smushed in Adem’s grip, “Wasn’t that hard… the real trouble was finding where Bucky was.”

“He had a big ol’ crush on me.”

“You’re so full of yourself Bucky.”

“Hey, the only reason you needed to commit those crimes was because I joined up… right after high school.”

“Because without me you wouldn’t have survived.” Steve paused, tugging himself free enough to glance at Bucky. The other man lost some of his precociousness, expression softening.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah… it was a tough go but, I’m not sure I would have made it out of that hell hole without you.”

Steve returned the gesture. After that they kept the conversation firmly anchored in the present. Adem and him described a few of the dates they went on, Sam like a broken record of ‘aww’ when Adem went into detail about Steve’s visit with his family.

“This is just so sweet,” Sam sighed, leaning on his knees, “Really makes me wish I had somebody in my life right now.”

“Unfortunately we’re all too  _ busy _ for romance,” Nat sighed, standing, “Speaking of, we should probably get a move on. We have work tomorrow.”

Adem eyed the group. “Tomorrow’s a Sunday…”

“And that’s why we’re not happy about it,” she said, “It was really great meeting you Adem. We have to do this again sometime. Besides, we’re only the tip of the iceberg.” Nat glanced at Steve, “I’d love to see what happens when he meets  _ Tony _ .”

Steve dragged his hand down his face. “Please, I want Adem to  _ keep _ dating me.”

Adem pouted, “Is Tony not really your friend?”

“No, he is,” Steve said, “but he can be a bit…” He cycled through a list of words until he found the most accurate word he could find that wasn’t insulting. “ _ Eccentric _ .”

Bucky and Sam offered similar goodbyes as Nat, and the three left. Steve walked them out, pausing outside his door. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys –“

“Steve, we get it okay?” Buck whispered, tugging his hat back on.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “You’re living two lives, and ours is the one that can’t really be talked about all that much. Less questions the better – we get it.” He smirked, “You should have been on my last date, every word out of my mouth was a lie. I told the guy I was a  _ falconer _ .”

“It’s not like I’m  _ lying _ ,” Steve told them, “I don’t… I don’t want to lie. But I’m not sure I should give him the  _ whole _ truth.”

“Well when you’re sure let us know,” Nat said, squeezing him in a hug, “Until then we’ll give you notice so the next crossover isn’t so much of a surprise.”

Steve walked back into his apartment with a lighter heart, the smile so wide on his face it could cause lines to form. When he re-entered, he noticed Adem had migrated over to the couch. Focused on him, Steve threw himself onto the couch and on top of Adem.

“Hey!” Adem cried, chuckling as Steve tickled at his sides. With quick and steady hands Steve flipped them around so Adem laid over him. “Hey,” he repeated, quieter.

“Hey,” Steve said. He reached forward and nipped at Adem’s lips. Adem answered his knock, opening his mouth for Steve to deepen the kiss. After a few minutes of making out, Adem pulled away. Panting, he leaned his forehead against Steve’s and gazed into his eyes.

“I like your friends,” he said, “They’re goofy and funny and… really care about you.”

“I told you you’d have your day,” Steve sighed, “They might not be blood but they’re part my family.”

“I can’t wait to meet the rest of your friends.”

Steve’s mind fell back into a scenario; him leading Adem into Stark Tower, introducing him to the Avengers. Adem shaking hands with Fury and listening to Tony go on about space travel. Laughing with Nat and Wanda while shooting doe eyes his way every few seconds. It’s the first time he ever imagined a good outcome to telling Adem the truth. His heart warmed and melted into a gooey pile inside his chest.

“Soon,” Steve said, tightening his hold on Adem’s waist, “Soon…”


	7. The Next Step

Steve pulled the blanket up further, snuggling into both it and Adem. He laid his head atop Adem’s, sighing in comfort.

“You good?” Adem asked with a snort. Steve responded with a soft grunt, which only provoked further chuckling. “Now stop wiggling around,” Adem said, “I don’t want to keep pausing every few seconds.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the remote from Adem’s hand, pressing play while never breaking eye contact. Adem scoffed and took it back, returning his focus onto the movie.

It was a perfect moment. Steve and Adem cuddling together on his couch, his comforter dragged out and turned into a warm nest for them. He didn’t much care for what was on, his mind lost on other things. Peeking at Adem from the corner of his vision, he debated if  _ this _ would be a good time to break the news that his boyfriend, Grant Rodgers, was really Steve Rogers: the man behind the mask of Captain America.

Steve had been thinking about it for a while. It’s something he put off, unsure when or how to bring it up. There was no guidebook on coming out with a secret identity. His only resource was the clip of Tony announcing his alter ego during a press conference and Steve already filed that under ‘what not to do’.

That list was longer by miles than the blank sheet of what Steve figured he could do. At times he’d stress over the possible conversation so much he’d give himself headaches. And then to calm down he’d smoke, soothing his migraine but also distracting from the task. The process was a string of failed starts and calls to his dealer. Even now he thought about how barren his box looked.

“Hey,” Adem whispered against his jaw, “You okay?”

“Why’re you asking?”

“You seem distracted,” he said, “Something on your mind?”

Maybe this was his chance. Steve could shrug, whisper ‘I’m Captain America’ and hope Adem’s divided attention would buy him some reprieve before the information sunk in. But he took too long, and Adem paused the movie again. He tried brushing it off, “It’s nothing…” Adem didn’t buy it.

“You’ve been kinda distant all day,” Adem said, “Come on… you can tell me.”

Steve shifted, tucking Adem’s head under his chin so he couldn’t see him wince. “I know,” he said, “I know…”

He felt something press against his neck, trailing down from his jaw to his collar. Adem kissed and sucked marks on his skin, mumbling. “Would this help you…?”

“Help me?” Steve chuckled, “Maybe…” He moved to capture Adem’s lips with his own, forgoing all pretense of watching a movie. Steve’s hands swiped under his boyfriend’s shirt. Fingers ghosted across tensing muscles, Steve smirking as he felt Adem’s chest rise and fall with his pants.

“This good?”

“Fantastic,” Steve said, tipping them backwards. Swathed in the blanket, bodies wriggling against each other, both men worked up a nice sheen of sweat. Adem tugged at Steve’s shirt, and he helped him pull it off him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you shirtless.” Steve told him the same, and Adem quickly stripped his own garment. Adem’s dark skin rubbed against Steve’s pale, the curled chest hair scrubbing against him. He moaned as their nipples bumped into each other, one hand moving to thread through Adem’s hair. “You like that?” Adem asked, tiptoeing up to Steve’s nipple and tweaking it. He twisted another moan from Steve. “Oh you do.”

Any worry Steve had about telling Adem his secret identity evaporated in the heat of their intimacy. Adem rolled his hips against Steve’s crotch, their gym shorts barely protecting their erections from touching. Steve seized the tiniest bit, nipping at Adem’s lips.

But then Adem moved down to pull at Steve’s shorts, gasping out a breathy, “Grant.”

Steve stilled, the name breaking him from his hedonistic trance. His embrace lost its passion and he sagged back into the couch. Adem’s body was a heavy weight that made it hard to breathe.

Adem glanced down at him, frowning. “Grant?” he asked, “Grant, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied, “Nothing’s wrong –“

“But you stopped.”

“I know –“

“We always stop,” Adem said, pulling himself up, “And you always say ‘nothing’s wrong’. Except obviously  _ something _ is.”

Steve turned his head to the side, unable to look at Adem. He understood what he was talking about. They haven’t been too intimate since their first date together. At first it was Adem who held back, not feeling at all confident.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re sexy,” he explained while walking through the ‘Sex & Relationship’ aisle in a bookstore, “You are. It’s just… the last few times I started things off in the bedroom that’s where we mainly stayed… I’ve had bad experiences is all.”

“I’m not going to push you,” Steve told him, “We’ll do whatever we’re both comfortable with.” Which was a lot of making out and heavy petting. Then Steve met Adem’s parents, and he was ready to take their relationship to the next level.

Steve wasn’t. He meant what he said about how hearing Adem call out ‘Grant’ wounded him greatly. If Adem were to say it in the throes of passion… Steve wasn’t sure how he’d feel except ‘not good’.

Whenever Adem tried speeding things up, Steve would slow down and deflect. Adem went along with it, patient being left hanging until now.

“Grant,” Adem continued, “Does this have anything to do with what you were thinking about…  _ before _ ?”

Steve nodded. Adem asked if he wanted to talk about it. He shook his head.

Adem sighed and started climbing off Steve. Startled, Steve shot out and grabbed for his wrist, asking what was wrong. “You’re  _ clearly _ not okay with doing this,” Adem said, reaching for his shirt, “And that’s cool. But… I am getting tired of these – of these  _ mixed signals _ .”

“Mixed signals?”

“God how do I explain this without sounding like a jerk…” Adem kneaded his brow, frowning. “It’s like… some people have boundaries, and I want to respect these boundaries. Except how am I supposed to if you don’t  _ explain _ what these boundaries are?” At Steve’s confused expression, Adem softened. “A relationship is supposed to be about trust and – and talking about our problems to the other. But you’re keeping something from me, something that’s  _ bothering _ you. How can I help if you won’t let me in?”

“No, Adem,” Steve started, “It’s not – it’s not something that can be  _ fixed _ .”

“But it is something right?”

“Well – yes –“

“And you don’t want to tell me?”

“I do!”

“Then why don’t you?”

“It’s… it’s complicated…”

Adem drew back, hesitant. “I understand wanting to keep things to yourself. Privacy’s important… but whatever it is you’re holding back is  _ affecting _ us. Hurting us – hurting  _ me _ .”

“Adem…”

He turned to him, eyes wet and pleading. “Please Grant, tell me. Let me  _ in _ .” Adem placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I… shit I know it’s a lousy time to bring it up, in a fight and everything, but I  _ love _ you.”

“…What?”

“I… I’m in love with you,” Adem told him, “I’ve been thinking of when might be a good time to tell you – and this is definitely  _ not _ how I imagined it going down. Although if you need some reassurance how  _ in _ I am for this relationship then I’m okay with giving up all those fantasies. As long as at the end of the night I can still call you my boyfriend, Grant –“

“You can’t.”

Adem’s expression fell and shuddered closed. He stepped back, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Oh,” Adem said, “I see…” Wringing his shirt, he chuckled. “Yeah, yeah… this seems pretty par for the course…“

Steve paled. His mouth acted without though and blurted those words out to his horror.

“I should – I should just go –“

“No!” Steve shouted, “No that’s not… that’s not what I meant.”

Adem’s face shifted from sadness to annoyance then, whipping his shirt onto the couch. “Then what did you mean, Grant?”

“That!” he said, “Grant – you shouldn’t… you shouldn’t call me Grant.”

“And why not? It’s your name, right?”

“It’s my  _ middle _ name,” Steve explained, eyes locked onto his feet. “When we met I lied about my name because it’s…” He bit his lip, shuddering a deep breath. “Because my name is Steve Rogers… no ‘d’.”

Seconds ticked by excruciatingly slow as he waited for Adem to respond. He did, but not how Steve expected. Adem scoffed, forcing Steve to whip his head up.

“Steve Rogers,” Adem repeated, “That’s it? You were worried about a name? Why would you – why would you have to lie about that?”

“Because if I introduced myself like that all the time then everyone would know!”

“Know  _ what _ ?”

“That I’m…” Steve quieted, voice lowering as the nerves strangled his vocal chords. “I’m  _ Captain America _ .”

Out of the range of emotions Adem expressed tonight, the one he chose terrified Steve. His face walled itself off in a blank mask. Steve tried moving closer by Adem recoiled at his movement.

“I can’t… what the fuck?” Adem said. He shook his head, pulling his shirt back onto his head. “Thank you, Grant – Steve – Cap –  _ whoever _ you are. For showing  _ exactly _ how much I mean to you.”

“What?”

“Why do I push?” Adem mumbled to himself, ignoring Steve and collecting his things. “Always ruining a good thing… should’ve shut up and said nothing.” He went to go slip on his shoes, spurring Steve into action.

“No I’m not – I’m not making this up!” he said. Steve stepped in front of Adem, blocking his exit.

“Really? Like some artist in Brooklyn is the All-American  _ hero _ who’s saved the world over and over again?” Adem chuckled harshly, gesturing to the bong on the coffee table. “You smoke fucking weed for fuck’s sake. Are you telling me Captain America is a  _ stoner _ ?”

“…Recently, yes.”

“Get out of my way –“

“Please, Adem,” Steve cried, “I need you to trust me.”

“I  _ did _ trust you,” Adem hissed. “I trusted you and you – you – you’re pissing all over it with this stupid  _ joke _ .”

“It’s not a joke –“

“Then what is it huh?” he asked, “You don’t want to tell me what’s going on? Is it about the sex? Are you someone who just doesn’t like having sex or – or…” Adem lost his energy, shoulders slumping. “Or do you not want to do it with  _ me _ ?”

Steve growled, dragging his hand up his face and pushing his glasses up. “This is – this isn’t going how I want this to go.”

“Looks like we’re finally on the same page.”

“What can I say,” Steve tried, “that will make you believe I’m telling the truth?”

Adem rolled his eyes. “I doubt there’s  _ anything _ you can say that’ll convince me you’re… God, I can’t even say it.”

Steve’s mind raced to find a way to prove he was Captain America. He never thought he’d need to do so, and now that he has to there’s not much that can aid him where he is now. His suit and shield rested comfortably within Stark Tower. The exhibit on his military career was safely holed away in the Smithsonian. Even his phone was no help, albums filled with random shots of scenery and Adem. Although those pictures held no solution, it does remind him of another that could help.

“Well,” Adem said, “I’m waiting.”

“I can,” Steve started, grabbing for Adem’s hand, “Don’t leave. I  _ promise _ you what I’m about to show you is real.”

Adem doesn’t seem cooperative, but he also allowed Steve to hold his hand. Squeezing it once, Steve leapt away and over to his room, Adem following. Ducking under his bed, he searched for the photo he stored under there.

He only looked at it on the nights his limbs felt restless and his head was stuck in the trenches. Reminded him that his battles and the war he fought were in the past, and the future ahead was filled with so much possibility and color. That he had chances for happiness he never dreamed possible back then. Hopefully it can secure that fantasy in reality, tying it back before it floated too far away.

“This,” Steve said, dragging it out, “Look at this.”

Adem accepted the frame with a drawn out sigh, glancing at it. “What is this?”

“It’s me and my team, back in the war,” Steve told him, “The Howling Commandos. You’ll probably recognize me and Bucky with the shorter hair.”

He squinted at the picture, frowning. “Where did you get this?”

“I asked the museum for it,” Steve shrugged, “One of the few things they didn’t mind parting with. Had to wait for them to print out a copy…”

Adem sunk onto the bed, his grip on the picture loosening with every second. “This… it looks real, but…” He peeked at Steve, darting from his face to the one on the picture, lips trembling. “And this isn’t some kind of cosplay situation with you and a few friends?” Steve shook his head. “Holy shit…” Adem shuddered, “You… you were telling the truth?”

Steve joined him. Taking the picture away, he placed it down before clasping their hands together. “Yes. I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you, but I… I never knew how to bring it up. Every time I thought I could I got scared that you might not want to be with me anymore. Maybe dating a semi-retired superhero would be too much, or the lies were too much. Or that now that you knew I was Captain America you’d get tired of dating…  _ me _ .” He removed his glasses, setting them on the bedside table. “The reason I had a secret identity wasn’t to protect other people… it was to give me some privacy; an opportunity to  _ not _ be a superhero. If people knew Captain America was living in their neighborhood, I’d never get to  _ know _ anyone or fit in. All I’ve been looking for is a place where I belong. Never felt right in the past – too sick, too queer, too  _ artistic _ . And here all those qualities were washed away and replaced with  _ Captain America _ . But now I get the chance to go out and be  _ myself _ .”

“I swear to you Adem whenever we were together I was never anything but who I am. Because when I’m with you all I  _ want _ to do is be myself. You make me so happy and so proud of a lot of the things I’ve never really felt comfortable letting myself enjoy. You’re the place where I feel at home because I  _ love _ you, and I’m terrified that this will change so much between us –“

“Steve.”

He paused, startled by Adem’s use of his real name. “Y-yes?”

“Stop talking.” Adem leaned forward and captured Steve’s lips in a passionate kiss. Steve fell into it, returning all the emotion he felt Adem pouring into him. As quickly as Adem swept him up in his embrace, he pulled back. Trailing after it, Steve hummed in disappointment. Adem chuckled, “Steve.” Repeating his name twice more, Adem collapsed back on the bed. “It really feels like I’m dreaming. The more I say it the more I realize how much the name  _ fits _ you.”

“I’ve had it for a long time.”

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” Adem sighed, “You’re so  _ old _ . Now I can’t make fun of people in relationships with huge age gaps anymore…”

Steve snorted, rubbing his hand up and down Adem’s thigh. “The loss may be heavy but I’m sure you can manage.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I guess…” He craned his neck up to stare at Steve. “Did you really mean it? About being yourself around me?”

“Every word.”

“I feel the same,” Adem said, “I don’t know what you see in  _ me _ though.” 

Steve pecked his lips. “I see  _ you _ , Adem,” he said, “And you’re prettier than  _ anything _ I’ve seen on Earth and beyond.”

“…You’ve been to space?”

“Once.”

Adem’s hand shot out and tugged Steve so he lied flat against his mattress. Then he rolled over onto him and continued their make-out session from earlier. “I want to hear all about it,” he sighed, pressing sloppy kisses against his cheek, “After we do it. Okay?”

“Yea-yeah,” Steve stuttered out, head filling with fog, “I’m so ready…”

“Finally, Steve.”

His breath hitched. “Say my name again.”

“ _ Steve. _ ”

Steve flipped them over, trapping Adem under him. “It sounds even better than I thought…” He kissed him with a frantic energy, as if Adem struck a match and tossed it onto his oil-slick skin. Lighting him up with an intense desire. They found themselves shucking their shirts again.

Adem broke their kiss, running a hand down Steve’s chest. “You look good for your age.”

“I exercise a lot.” Steve crept off of Adem’s lap, dragging the other man’s shorts along with him. “This okay?”

“Super okay.” He eyed Steve’s own shorts. “Although highly unfair.”

“Let me fix that.” Steve dropped everything, the material pooling at his feet. Along with his shorts he discarded his boxer-briefs, exposing everything. It’d be sexier if Adem’s eyes didn’t bulge out of his head. Steve snickered, bending over to cover his laughter.

“Hey,” Adem scoffed, sitting up further, “Quit it.”

“S-s-sorry –“

“I’ve never seen something so big like that,” he continued, whacking at Steve’s leg, “first time jitters.”

Steve cleared his throat, rearranging himself. He smiled, “Don’t worry… we’re not going to do any of  _ that _ tonight.”

“Obviously,” Adem rolled his eyes, “I didn’t prep.”

“Neither did I.”

“You mean you…?”

“Have I never showed you my dildo?”

“What are we doing? Skipping a milestone like that…” Adem tsked. “Awful.”

“Come on,” Steve glanced at Adem’s boxers, “ _ off _ .” No time was wasted, Adem flinging the underwear off to the side. He took his own suggestive glance at his package, appreciating the view. Adem’s dick was nestled in a thicket of dark hair, the head thick and flushed already. His own cock hardened further at the sight. Steve kneeled on the bed, ready to continue. But a hand kept him at bay. “What?”

“You don’t have anything going on that I should know about, do you?”

“Oh,” Steve said, “Uh – no, no… I haven’t…”

“You haven’t…” Adem blushed. “Am I your –“

“Yeah.”

Adem nodded, quiet for too long a beat. Then, he said, “Okay… okay, no pressure at all –“

“Adem!”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, “Don’t you want your first time to be a bit more… romantic?”

“This is romantic,” Steve told him, “We both love each other… and this, coming together after a huge fight I… this is perfect for me.”

“Okay,” Adem sighed, beaming, “But fair warning I have HPV, so you might want to get some condoms before we go any further.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but went ahead and grabbed a few. He was glad he never threw out the box Bucky snuck into his drawer one night after a long game of Monopoly. Tearing off the winky-face post-it, Steve pulled out two condoms. “Do you need help putting it on?”

“No, I got this. You get the lube.”

“So bossy.”

“You were in the army,” Adem smirked, “I’m sure following orders shouldn’t be any problem?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Right, almost forgot how much of a rebel you were…” Adem ripped the wrapper off with his teeth, spitting it out at him. “I just hope you have a  _ clue _ about what you’re doing.”

Steve stalled, chuckling. “Really? And you’re saying  _ I’m _ old?”

“James Dean was a gift and taken from us too soon,” Adem said, “Stop mocking me,  _ Steve _ .”

A tingle worked its way down his spine, and he grinned. Saluting, he said, “Yes, sir.” He found the lube and dumped it on the foot of his bed. They lied across it, with Adem’s feet on the floor. Steve returned to straddling Adem, rolling his hips a few times. His naked cock brushed up against the latex surrounding his boyfriend’s.

Adem moaned, his hands balling into fists near Steve’s chest. “Put your damn condom on,” he muttered.

Steve copied Adem’s motions, rolling the condom on with ease. Then he pumped the lube a few times for a generous portion. Grabbing both their cocks in hand, Steve started jerking them off.

Working up a rhythm was difficult at first. Adem’s back hurt from the position, so he shifted to have the mattress support his neck instead of it hanging off if he were to lie flat. Steve followed, okay with supporting himself over Adem with one hand. Except his knees kept slipping off the edge and their thighs slapped against each other.

“Maybe on our sides?” Adem suggested. Steve rolled off and onto his side, but that was uncomfortable for both of them. Rearranging themselves so their heads rested on the pillow, Adem kicked the lube off the bed. “Shit!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve hushed him with a kiss, “Hardwood floors, easy clean up. C’mere.” He swept Adem into an embrace, distracting him from the spill. It wouldn’t be the first time he dropped lube, and never the last. After that, the learning curve to find a satisfying pace was made easier.

In between kisses, Adem panted, “Faster,” “Not too hard,” and “Come on, that’s it.” Steve squeezed their cockheads together, running his thumb up against their protected slits. He knew his condom was a mess inside, and judging from his boyfriend’s very vocal reactions believed the same could be said for him.

Wiggling his other hand out from under him, Steve moved down to play with their balls. Adem cursed deliriously, wrapping his arms tighter around Steve. Fingers toyed with his hair, tugging at them.

As time goes on he felt the battle pitching in his stomach becoming more explosive. Like both sides had thrown their guns to the side and fired misses at one another from behind the safety of their trenches. Steve moaned into another kiss, skin scorching hot as it slid up against Adem’s. He knew his release was coming, dangling at the edge waiting for the final push to knock it over.

Steve gasped for air, fluttering his eyes open. When he did he noticed Adem gazing at him. He saw a kaleidoscope of emotions reflected in Adem’s eyes. Happiness, comfort, excitement, attraction… and most importantly  _ love _ pooled together in the amber glow of Adem’s stare.

He knocked their foreheads together, smiling. “I love you, Adem.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

A few more pumps and Steve came with a shout. His body seized, hand spastically jerking and hips rolling. The motions combined to drag Adem into an orgasm as well. They rode out their pleasure together until every last drop was spent, and then collapsed onto one another.

“That was… that was…”

Steve hummed. “Yes?”

“ _ So  _ worth the wait.”

“Agreed.”

The condom felt awkward around his waning erection, come drying and making parts stick to him. He knew that it would have to come off, but Adem’s warm presence next to him was difficult to tear himself way from.

Adem had similar thoughts. “I’m willing to sleep in this if you are,” Adem sighed, nuzzling at Steve’s cheek. “Even if we wake up with chafed dicks… I’m too  _ tired _ .”

Steve sighed, pulling himself away. “Stay,” he said at Adem’s whine, “I’ll take care of it.” Adem watched him clean, removing both condoms and tying them off. He carried them away and over to the trash can. Unfortunately they still had the lube to deal with – and Steve forgot all about it.

The dirty condoms nearly flew from his hands as he struggled to regain his footing. He glanced down at where his foot smeared a streak against his floor. Adem’s snickering back dropped his eye roll. “Remember to clean that up, too,” Adem sung from his cozy place in bed.

“Yeah, yeah…” Steve hopped his way over to the bathroom, careful to avoid the mess. He discarded the condoms and grabbed for a towel. Wetting it under the faucet, he first cleaned off his foot before running it over his crotch.

Back in his bedroom, Steve attended to Adem before anything else. He washed away the sweat and residue come slowly taking his time. Adem’s heated stare burned his hand, but Steve handled the flames well. Finishing up, Steve kissed him gently at the crown of his public hair.

“If I could come again I would from just that,” Adem whined, “You’re honestly too good to be true.”

“Funny,” Steve chuckled, “I was about to say the same to you.”

“Hurry up and get back in bed.” Steve wiped up the lube sloppily, sure that he’d be back there later cleaning up. Leaving the towel and the bottle on the floor, Steve fell back into bed and scooped Adem up in his arms.

In his last few moments of consciousness, he thought back to all the fear and worry he had about telling Adem his secret. The situation blew up in his face, but Steve managed to face it all and still keep his man. With Adem beside him, he made a vow to never let anything else come between them.

Falling asleep was like falling in love, it had never been so easy with Adem beside him.


End file.
